Little Princess
by Gleeful Scribblings
Summary: Kurt knows that all men care about is the pleasure he can provide. So when the rich farmer, Blaine Anderson, buys him at the slave market, he doesn't expect he'll be any different. When Blaine refuses to take what Kurt has to offer, Kurt doesn't believe it for a moment. He has long since given up believing in love, but Blaine will do anything he can to make Kurt believe again.
1. First Sight

This story requires a bit of an explanation I think. The world it's set in is different from our own because gay marriage is an accepted, though not exactly common part of life. There is also a huge Slave Trade, and in the valley where Blaine and Kurt live now, the town of Laurel Hill holds a Slave Market every two months. Based around the time of the 1850s. There is a gold rush going on and times are hard, causing many men to turn to alcohol/drugs/other ways of escape. The valley is also in a colony away from the mainland and there aren't many women or families around, meaning the men are often starved for sexual company. So that leads up to a lot of the problems in this story.

Please enjoy and review!

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"So I hope there are no hard feelings, Little Princess." Madame smiled with sickly sweetness as she sat before Kurt and delivered the life changing news. "I know you've brought a lot to our brothel, and you've been the one to gather the highest paying customers every time. But we're selling the whole place, so we'll be selling you too. The slave market's in two days, so we have that long to get you all prettied up for our highest bidder."

"No hard feelings," Kurt's voice was bland, but he was in turmoil. His entire life had just been flipped upside down and he was only told two days before it was happening? Completely unfair.

But then, nothing had ever been fair for Kurt. And he should have known that with the slave market approaching and Madame leaving to get married, he was nearing the time where he'd be sold on. Madame could always read him too well, and she smiled nastily as she picked up on his racing thoughts.

"Don't be scared of getting sold. There's really nothing for a pretty like dove like you to worry about. Be on your _best_ behaviour and I'll make sure you get someone attractive enough to keep to satisfied." She smiled as if she were doing him a favour.

Kurt wanted to say that he didn't care how attractive the new owner was, he would still hate them as much as he hated every man who'd ever paid the fee and lain with him. Kurt wanted to slap Madame across the face and curse her for ruining his life. He wanted to beg and plead that she wouldn't parade him in front of the audience of prospective buyers and let them touch him all over before they decided if he were worth whatever outlandish price she asked for. He wanted to break down. But he hadn't done that for five whole years. Not since his father had died and he'd been thrown on the ship leaving the Mainland.

So he nodded and thanked her instead.

"With your sexual prowess, I'm sure you'll sell for hundreds more than the others. Your training wasn't for nothing, you know." Madame flicked her hand and Kurt was dismissed. Her greedy eyes returned to the money she was counting almost immediately.

Kurt turned to go, feeling a little sick at the thought of the huge world that he was about to be cast into. As much as he hated the brothel, it was the only life he remembered that didn't seem like a dream. He didn't know how to do anything but please man after man on Madame's orders. Anything else seemed impossible.

"Oh and Princess?" Kurt paused by the door and waited for her to continue, holding his breath. "You can talk one of your odd little walks. The guards are waiting."

Kurt's face brightened a little.

"Thank you Madame, I appreciate it." He murmured, darting from the room as quickly as he could and closing the door on her blatantly false call of 'anything for my favourite'.

He knew that this was a bribe to make sure he didn't put up a fuss, but Kurt really didn't care. He loved walks, and he wasn't about to turn one down. It was a chance to finally get away from the brothel for a few hours. It was a chance to walk until he could make his muscles hurt in a _good_ way. And then he could sit in the General Store for the last hour and talk to the lovely Mrs and Mr Chang who owned it. They were the only people in this place who looked at him without lust or hatred in their eyes. In fact Kurt practically skipped to where the two angry men waited to walk him down.

Though they were silent and fuming at being given the boring task of accompanying him, Kurt found it easy to ignore them. He walked on ahead with his head high, breathing in the air and ignoring the stares that followed him.

It wasn't long before his mind latched onto his current dilemma. He almost wanted to be sold into another brothel. That way he would be able to continue as he always did, hating the faceless men that came to him while he pretended to love them, eating meals with the other prostitutes and actually getting along with some of them, living in his own little bubble, and thriving on the small moments of freedom he was allowed. The routine of his life was easier than the idea of facing something unknown. But Kurt was also worried that in another brothel he _wouldn't _be allowed the same freedoms and he was now. They might treat him badly. They might never let him out for a walk. The other girls might be cruel. In the end, Kurt knew there _were_ certain perks he was only treated to as Madame's favourite.

So perhaps he would be better off with someone buying him and taking him back to their house. At least they'd be rich if they'd had the money to afford _him._ (Kurt's reputation preceded him after all.) So he'd live in fairly good conditions. The problem would be if the man he was sold to was violent or cruel. Kurt would be stuck with them a long time.

And then what would happen when the man was ready to start a proper family with a nice clean girl or guy from the Mainland. Kurt would be thrown out and sold on like every other slave, and he'd be left in yet another uncertain position as he was sold again.

"How long are we walking today?" The whiney voice made Kurt whirl around, his scattered thoughts interrupted.

"For as long as _I_ say we walk." Kurt said stiffly. "And then we're going to General Store."

The guards both groaned loudly, and Kurt's eyes narrowed. He hated when the sacred calm of the walks were disturbed.

"I'd advise you both to stop complaining. In fact I don't even want you to _speak_." His voice lowered dangerously. He licked his lips and moved in closer, making them both shift nervously. "Because _I_ don't like to be interrupted. And _Madame_ won't like hearing about her Little Princess being touched without her permission."

"We never touched you!" The other guard protested, looking furious that Kurt would _dare_ to threaten them.

Smiling, Kurt reached out a finger and stroked in across the first guard's chest, letting it linger as he sucked in a startled breath.

"Ooops," Kurt lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Now you did."

They looked outraged, but there was nothing they could do. If it was Kurt's word against theirs, they would lose. It was easier just to let him have his way. Both fell silent, still fuming. Kurt turned and began walking again, beckoning them along behind him.

"Hurry up." He snapped, glancing back one more time.

Both guards thought they'd never seen someone with such cold, closed-off eyes.

…

Blaine tipped his cap up so that he could squint at the sign hanging over the shop in front of him. The General Store stood in the middle of a series of tired old buildings that had been worn by the dust churned up on the well-used road. Blaine had driven all day to get into town from his farm, and it was not worth the effort. He hated the depressing air that hung over the whole place, and the rough men that came through. He hated the lazy heat and the dead eyes that watched newcomers with tired curiosity. Right now he could feel a few people watching him from the windows of other shops, and a row of men arguing loudly as they left the bar down the road.

Sighing, he led his horse to the side of the street and tied him to the water trough outside the store. He made sure his cart was well out of the way of other travellers and within sight of the door, because you never knew when some young man would decide to help himself.

That was the problem with this town. No one could be trusted. Especially around the slave market days, when folks from all around would pour in just to ogle at the people on sale.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, Pavarotti." Blaine murmured, running his hands through the horse's mane and then striding through clouds of dust to the store.

The bell rang out as he opened the door and shut it quickly behind himself to keep the heat out. Blaine pulled off his hat and hung it on the hook at the door, brushing his shoes across the mat to minimise the dust he was tracking inside.

Peering around the dim shop, he expected nothing but the same stacks of assorted items that were scattered around the few times he'd come to town, and the friendly face of Mike Chang greeting him from behind the counter. But the counter was empty, and there were three figures in the corner of the room Blaine had never seen before. He couldn't help the sharp intake of breath that escaped him at the sight of them.

Well, it wasn't really all three that had captured him. It was only one of them.

The boy sat in a chair with a steaming cup of tea in his hands, his face bright as he focused on the book in his lap. He was entirely ignoring the two surly men seated on either side of him, and so it was easy for Blaine to do the same.

Instead he just stared.

The boy hadn't even looked up when the bell had gone off, but seemed wrapped up in the pages in front of him. One hand traced absent-mindedly through his hair, which was brown and honey light all at once, and swept up loosely off his face in a way Blaine had never seen before. His brow furrowed as he read and his blue intelligent eyes flickered quickly across the page. His nose was sweeter than any Blaine had ever seen and he immediately wondered if it scrunched up when the boy smiled, of if he had dimples that blossomed by the sides of those lips- Which were soft and pink and actually faintly mouthing the words as he read along.

Blaine felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. He had _never_ seen anyone like this before.

He wanted to talk to him. He _had _to. Blaine actually took a few steps forward on his shaky legs. But one of the men suddenly shifted and Blaine's attention was drawn away from the angel. Snapping back into reality was slightly disconcerting. Blaine regarded the man, and then the other companion, with confusion.

He realised how weird it was that this delicate boy was sitting in the corner of the grocery store with two burly men who certainly weren't related to him. And _oh_, Blaine felt his heart plummet as he looked at him again, and _really_ looked.

Because he wasn't exactly a normal person, and now Blaine understood why someone of such rare beauty was in a town like this. The biggest indicator was the clothes. He worse a lose fitting pale blue top that almost exactly matched his eyes and hung off one shoulder, revealing the pale, soft skin beneath it. And his pants, in contrast, were so tight they may as well have been created to cut of circulation in his… legs. Blaine imagined that if he stood up, they would leave little to the imagination. Which of course, was the desired effect.

Because Blaine now realised that Kurt must be in town to be _sold_.

And this was why Blaine hadn't wanted to come to town so close to the slave market. This is why he wouldn't have come if his supplies running out hadn't forced him to. He didn't want to see the slaves.

The Slave Market happened every two months and Blaine avoided it like the plague and blushed at the mere mention of it. He'd only seen it once, his first time in town as a grown man.

All the people dragged out were either to be sold as prostitutes or manual labourers. There was no in-between; not in a place like this. Not this country, so far from the Mainland where _normal _society thrived.

No, out here women or gay men were few and far between. Out here when people wanted a partner, they'd return to the Mainland and find a _respectable_ person to bring back and live on their new farms. Little communities popped up with a few of these families who never saw the bad side of the country. Blaine hated that _he'd_ seen the bad side.

He'd seen the men, starved of the company of lovers, who would leap at the chance to buy their own 'maid', use them, and throw them out when they were ready to settle down. He'd seen the brothels and the bars. He'd seen the way women and occasional men were brought from prisons or orphanages on the Mainland and trained in the art of sex. Because that was what brought money in out here, more so than any other job. Sex was in high demand, because there was hardly any opportunity for it.

So the slave market was very popular. Two things people needed; cheap workers to do manual labour on the new farms or in the goldfields, or someone to satisfy their cravings or add to the list of workers in their brothel.

And Judging by this boy's slightly feminine features and peerless grace, Blaine guessed he didn't fall under the 'manual labour' category.

And Blaine had been staring at him like some leering creep.

He felt his cheeks flame as he looked quickly away. No one had noticed him staring, but he still felt vulgar and despicable. He always considered himself above those men who went so crazy they threw away all their morals just to feel something. They didn't mind violating any girl or guy offered to them and Blaine had found that repulsive. Yet suddenly he was faced with a beautiful creature like something right out of a dream and his knees felt weak. He forgot every thought and let himself devour him with his eyes.

Blaine shook his head at himself as he began to make his way down the first isle. He was determined to be as respectful as always and leave this boy alone. He was probably going to be gone off with some new owner in two days and it was stupid for Blaine to start mooning over him.

Glancing at the counter in annoyance again, Blaine wished Mike was there. The store owner was one of the only decent people in the entire town. He and his wife, Tina had moved here from the mainland seven years ago, right when Blaine had first started setting up his farmstead. He'd quickly bonded with the pair, who felt as much on the outs as Blaine in this town. But Blaine didn't think he'd ever wanted to see them quite this badly.

As soon as Mike came out from wherever he was, Blaine could sell his crop, buy new supplies, and get out of there. He had planned on staying for dinner, but now he just needed to get back to the open country air and away from this culture he still despised.

Blaine wandered around the shop, cataloguing items that he needed. Mike was taking a long time. In fact Blaine had never known him to leave the counter for so long. And the longer he spent waiting the more often Blaine's gaze drifted back to the boy in the corner. Maybe he _should_ talk to the boy. Just to see if he knew where Mike was. Not because of anything else.

Not because Blaine wanted to hear his voice. No way.

He just wanted to get out of there, and the sooner he found Mike the sooner he could do that.

So Blaine span on his heel and…

Promptly knocked over a barrel of boiled candies.

…

Kurt was startled out of his book world by a loud clatter and the sudden smack of something small and hard on his shins. He drew back automatically, dropping his book and narrowly avoiding spilling his tea.

But it was quickly obvious that there was no real threat.

The boy in front of him was on his knees scrambling to collect the candy that was still spilling from the upturned barrel beside him. He was blushing furiously and Kurt cocked his head a little as he took him in; all tiny waist, strong arms, curly hair, and sweet embarrassment.

Something stirred deep inside Kurt. There was a fluttering in his chest he hadn't felt for years. Usually, Kurt didn't notice when men were attractive. He had long been turned away from those sorts of thoughts. This time, however, he couldn't help but pick up on the fact that the man in front of him was quite lovely indeed. In fact, an appropriate word would be adorable.

But then he remembered where he was and who he was. That alone was enough to snap him out of his trance. He set his tea cup down and schooled his face into coldness. The flutter was gone. He felt an odd sense of loss at its absence. For something that he hadn't felt in at least five years, it had seemed oddly right.

"I'm really sorry," The boy said before he was even finished cleaning up. He brushed his hands off on his trousers and turned to face Kurt, eyes huge and earnest and- dammit the fluttering was back.

"I hope I didn't hurt you." He stood up and Kurt was surprised and more than a little amused at how short he was. "I didn't mean to knock that over I-I just didn't see it."

Kurt was suddenly aware of both his guards standing, and making a move toward the boy. He held up a hand to stop them.

"He's not going to hurt me, so mind your own business." Kurt hissed.

The boy blinked nervously and looked between the two men as they glared at Kurt and sat back down. Kurt tiled his head at the boy again, waiting for him to continue. His curiosity was piqued. And he realised, as the boy's eyes returned to his face, what was so different about him.

The boy was looking him in the eye. He wasn't enjoying Kurt's body or avoiding him altogether. He was just talking to him like any other person might. The tight pants, the exposed skin, the faint traces of makeup on Kurt's face… none of it distracted or disgusted him. And Kurt was not used to that.

"I'm Blaine." He stuck out a hand to shake, but when Kurt paused his blush grew even darker and the hand dropped to his side again. Kurt liked the name, even if he didn't want to shake the hand and feel the rough callouses of a hard day's work brush against the soft skin of his palms that forever reminded him of what his hands were needed for.

_Kurt,_ he wanted to reply. But no one alive knew his real name expect for Mike and Tina, and one girl he had known long ago. Kurt wasn't about to change that now.

"They call me the Little Princess." Kurt shrugged, the shirt he was wearing slipping off his shoulder to expose more skin in the same movement. Blaine's eyes flickered down and traced briefly across the line of his collarbone.

Kurt's entire body went cold.

He was _stupid,_ he was so stupid for thinking that Blaine would be different. Just because he had that innocent smile and those warm golden eyes, it didn't mean the same thoughts weren't buzzing in his brain. No guy was ever different. They all just wanted a closer look. And even though Blaine's gaze hardly lingered, snapping right back up to his face, Kurt's moment of openness was shattered.

"Can I ask you a question?" Blaine said, shuffling. He hadn't noticed Kurt's change in demeanour.

"You just did." Kurt couldn't help that he sounded bitter now. Blaine's brow furrowed at the sound and he searched Kurt's face for some sort of explanation. Kurt retreated further into his mask of ice. It seemed to be putting Blaine off, so he didn't regret a thing.

"No I just- Where's Mike? Or Tina?" He gestured toward the counter, but those soul-searching eyes stayed fixed of Kurt's.

"They left so I could have some peace and quiet. Ring the bell and they'll come." Kurt turned away hurriedly, and grabbed his book off the floor. He wanted Blaine to leave and he wanted him to leave _now._

"Thank you-" Blaine began.

"Fuck off." Kurt was pleased to see the way Blaine seemed to choke on his own tongue. He obviously didn't expect such harsh words to come from such a pretty boy. Well then, he should sit around and eat a meal or two with the prettiest and most 'innocent' prostitutes in the brothel. He'd be in for a surprise.

Blaine's shock pleased Kurt. He felt in control of his emotions again. Watching Blaine flounder, Kurt shot him a sweet, angelic smile, and swept down the nearest aisle.

The guards followed and the door swung shut with one last tinkling of the bell.

…

Alone in the shop, Blaine forced himself to close his mouth. He shouldn't feel so lonely at the sudden disappearance of the boy he had only just met, much less one who used language like _that._ Much less one with Kurt's… profession.

But he did feel suddenly like he had made some horrible mistake, though he had no idea what that might be.

He shouldn't want the boy to come back. He'd seen what he was. He'd seen his heartless eyes, even though for a moment he'd convinced himself that there was some sort of fondness there. There was nothing Blaine should want back.

So he walked up to the counter and rang the bell hanging there.

He would sell his produce, buy what he needed, and get out of there.

Blaine didn't have to see the rows of broken people who had been taken from prisons and orphanages and right off the streets back on the Mainland before being shoved into dank ships and taken out here. Blaine didn't need to hear the loud bragging of how each slave had been trained in sexual acts until they were satisfactory.

Blaine would ride like the wind back to his beautiful house and his lush land and lose himself in the rugged loneliness of the countryside again. He wouldn't need to lie awake for nights on end remembering what the rows of slaves looked like, or the lack of humanity in the eyes of the people buying them.

And he wouldn't remember Kurt.

If Blaine ignored the problem, he could just pretend it didn't exist, right?


	2. Life

I'm sorry this update has been such a long time coming! School has been very busy, but I've finally hit the holidays so I'll have much more time to write! Thanks for you encouraging reviews!

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Kurt was beyond furious by the time he stormed back to the brothel. The sign that read "The King's Castle" swung dangerously as he slammed the door on his two guards, ignoring their annoyed exclamations. Kurt was glad it was halfway through session time, meaning everyone was shut up in the rooms upstairs and there was no one to see his stormy entrance. He'd be in trouble if they did. Kurt was meant to be constantly pleasing. He stomped across the grand entrance hall and down the corridor that led to Madame's office. Just before he slammed a fist down on the wood of her door, he remembered himself and suddenly stopped.

_Damn_ Blaine had thrown him off. It had been a while since he'd properly lost his temper. But it really hadn't been the best of days. First he was informed of his upcoming sale, causing his already unstable mood. Then he met a stupid little farmer who somehow made Kurt _interested_. Well at least Kurt could forget about Blaine easily. He could always forget men easily. In fact, he guaranteed that by the next day, he wouldn't even remember what colour (_Golden-brown syrupy and flowing with curiosity)_ the boy's eyes had been.

So Kurt took a deep breath and calmed as quickly as he could. He gently relaxed all his muscles and straightened his spine. Lastly, he schooled the frown from his brow. Only then did Kurt knock on the door.

"Come in," Madame's bored drawl grated on his nerves as he stepped inside the plush office.

"Madame, we're back. May I return to my room now?" Kurt asked. Her eyes flickered over the papers in front of her one more time before she bothered to look back up. She smiled with a falsely maternal softness that had never reached her eyes. Kurt felt really sorry for her future husband. The poor man had no idea what sort of a woman he was marrying. Not that the man would be any better. He must know that she had owned a brothel of slaves before she'd decided to sell it and move in with him. What kind of person would be okay with that?

"Little Princess," She greeted him. "That was a long walk, but you're here before five and I guess that's what matters."

Kurt's heart sunk. Surely she wasn't making him take clients after the news that she was selling him so soon. Yet he couldn't think of any other reason he'd need to be ready by five.

"You're next client will be here at five on the dot, so you've a moment to fix your hair." She regarded the bangs that were starting to fall over his forehead and Kurt pushed them out of his face quickly.

"Can't we please tell them I'm sick?" Kurt sighed, keeping a tight grasp on his temper with great difficulty. He just wanted to _rest._ Was that too much to ask?

"Of course not!" Madame had the nerve to look offended by this statement. "These customers have been faithful to you for years, returning time after time. They deserve the chance to say goodbye. Your price tripled since the news that the brothel is closing anyway. I knew I was right to save the news until the last minute; otherwise I may have only received double. You have three more tonight, and then nine tomorrow. You'll be done by later afternoon, and we'll finish getting you ready for sale day then. It's fast approaching!"

"Twelve people?" Kurt asked dully. He should have known she would do this.

"Most of them are your regulars, and there's a few one's who struck it big in the goldfields recently and wanted a chance with you before you get sold and possibly taken from them forever. You're very popular, you should be honoured." As usual she gushed as if she'd done him a favour.

"Honoured," Kurt echoed, giving her a false smile of gratitude that immediately brought satisfaction to her face.

"Well I guess I'd better send you off." She said, and then suddenly seemed to remember something. She grabbed the papers she was studying, her call stopping him as he turned the doorknob. "Look! I have all the ownership transfer papers ready. If I'm pleased with your performance with these last twelve clients, you can bet you'll have a very _handsome_ new owner signing them tomorrow."

Kurt hardly turned back to face her, but made sure he nodded respectfully.

"Thank you Madame." It was a great effort not to spit the words at her.

…

"Blaine!" The bell called Mike out from the back of the store fairly quickly, and Blaine was _finally_ face to face with his beaming friend. Immediately the tension in the air seemed to lift. That was one of Mike's many talents. He always put Blaine totally at ease. "Good to see you!"

"You too," Blaine was pulled into a hug as he smiled in return.

"We wondered when you'd be coming to town. Tina's been trying to get me to send you some mail but the cart never goes your way, so we've had to wait on you. Actually, I'm shocked you arrived so close to market day," Mike grimaced.

"Yeah well my supplies ran out. I definitely won't be staying for the market." Blaine assured him.

"Why don't you come round the back? Tina's going to go crazy when she sees you. She was just complaining this morning over how long it's been. _Again._" Mike said with a fond grin. "She's just in the side room taking out some bolts of cloth from the last shipment."

Blaine followed Mike's pointing finger, but paused as he spotted the slightly distracted look on his face.

"Hold on one moment, I'm sorry." Blaine watched as Mike stepped around the counter, calling out as he went. "Kurt is there anything you need? I'm just taking a friend back to- oh."

Mike's brow furrowed at the absence of the beautiful boy as he turned back to Blaine. "Um, have you seen Kurt?"

"His name's Kurt?" That was all Blaine could really focus on. Somehow it was wonderfully satisfying to know his name. After all, there was no way he was calling him 'Little Princess'. Mike however, paled.

"Oh god I'm not supposed to tell you that." He looked very guilty as he took one last look at the place Kurt had disappeared from and then re-joined Blaine, ushering him through to the back. "_Don't_ tell him I told you that."

"I doubt I'll see him again anyway," Blaine's cheerful mood vanished once more.

"See who?" Tina's voice startled him at first, and he broke into a chuckle as she held her arms open for a hug.

"Good to see you." She ruffled his curls as he hugged her and made him scrunch up his nose and pull away. "We were starting to worry you'd died alone on that farm of yours. It's been over two months since we last saw you."

"Good to see you too." Blaine sighed, trying to flatten his hair as he followed Tina into their parlour. Mike laughed cheerfully behind him and gestured for Blaine to take a seat.

"So _who_ do you doubt you'll ever see again?" Tina asked as she and Mike took the small faded loveseat opposite Blaine.

"Oh, I just met Kurt in the store back there." Blaine said, crossing his legs.

"He told you his _name_?" Tina gasped. Immediately, Mike's head snapped up and guilt flooded his features again.

"Uh…" Blaine stammered awkwardly, trying not to look at Mike and give him away, but Tina was already turning to hit him on the arm, exasperated.

"_Mike Chang_ _you have no self-control!_" She berated.

"Sorry!" Mike held up his hands in mock defense. "I'm just used to calling him Kurt. Sometimes it slips out!"

"He'd be _absolutely_ horrified if his real name got out. It's the only piece of his old life he has left. You're lucky most people that overhear it think it's a nickname." Tina shook her head, and then turned to explain that to Blaine. "Because he's so curt,"

"I see," Blaine tried very hard not to laugh at this apt description. He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face through. Tina's eyes narrowed as she cocked her head at him.

"What's that look?" She asked shrewdly.

"What look?" Blaine replied. He tried to appear as normal as he could, but now he was flushing.

"_That_ look." Mike chuckled in agreement as Tina's face split into a huge smile.

"You _like_ him." She accused, seeming pleased.

Blaine ducked his head, trying to think of some sort of response. But when he looked up again, he saw Tina's smile drop.

"Oh Blaine," He was startled by the suddenly serious tone she adopted. Then he realised that Mike looked grave as well. They exchanged a look. The previous spark of approval had suddenly vanished, leaving only concern. "That's a complicated way to go if I ever saw one."

"I know," Blaine assured them. "I'm not going there anyway. He's getting sold right? That's why he's here. So I'll never see him again."

"Well actually Blaine," Mike looked grim. "He's already _owned._"

"Then why's he here?" Blaine asked, a little distressed at the idea that Kurt might be staying in the town. It would be hard to avoid him and forget his beautiful face if he was in the spot Blaine had to come back to everyone month or so. Although he'd done a good job of never spotting him so far.

"He um- he- well he works in the town." Mike stammered. He looked like the very thought of Kurt's job made him sick.

"He works in the… oh," Blaine stared down at his lap, embarrassed. "In a- a brothel?"

"Yes," Tina answered quietly. "So it's not exactly a good idea to fall for him. And God knows how much I wish Kurt could have someone like you. But the thing is… he just can't. And he doesn't _want_ it either. He makes things work where he is. He has his life at the brothel and that's all he wants. It's all he's ready for. You can't interrupt that."

"Maybe if he was freed, he might find a way to move on. But that won't happen. And at least he's found a place where he can actually be happy at times." Mike added.

"I get it. It's okay." Blaine very deliberately tried to remove all thoughts of Kurt from his mind. "So how's the shop going?"

"Blaine," Tina's wet eyes were full of sympathy as she ignored his attempt at a subject change. "You'll find someone one day."

"I know." Blaine sighed, before changing the topic again. He wondered if he was crazy to think that if things had been different, that someone might have been Kurt.

…

Kurt was glad to finally shut the door on the last client of the day and let the willing smile drop from his face. He shuddered as he grabbed the sheets and threw them into the basket in the corner so they could be washed later.

Now he could finally sleep.

Kurt pulled a robe on and turned to walk through to the small sparse room that held his _actual_ bed (and stood in high contrast to the luxuriously furnished room he saw clients inside). But before he'd taken more than five steps away from the door, there was a loud knocking.

"Yes," Kurt said, keeping the annoyance from his tone.

"It's me, Honey! Madame sent us up!" Brittany's voice made him smile despite himself as he walked to the door. He hadn't though he would talk to her until the next day, and he knew as soon as he heard her voice that her company would be just what he needed to calm his nerves again. Brittany was the only one left in the King's Castle brothel who could calm Kurt. He always suspected it was one of the main reasons Madame had kept her around so long. When Kurt was in a mood, Brittany was sent up to wash his hair and keep him company for a bit. He knew it was just manipulation, but he liked Brittany so much he really didn't care that Madame was using their friendship.

Kurt quickly swung open the door, but his expression turned sour as he realised she wasn't alone. The girl with her, along with the other prostitutes, falsely believed that Kurt thought himself above everyone. So she hated him.

"Brittany," Kurt greeted, choosing to ignore the sulky figure beside her. He pulled her in by the hand and narrowly missed shutting the door on the other girl's heel. She glared at him, but said nothing. Instead, she quickly moved to the cupboard off to the side of the room and opened it. She wanted to get her job over and done with, so she had to quickly find the bathtub inside and help wash Kurt's hair.

"I'll miss you so much," Brittany said without delay, and squished him into a giant hug. Kurt relaxed a little against her, breathing deeply and making sure he wasn't about to cry.

"I'll miss you too." He said firmly. And _god _he really would miss Brittany. Life was _so unfair._

"Madame will sell you to someone nice, right?" Brittany asked, tugging him over and pushing him backward into the plush armchair in the corner. Kurt was glad he hadn't used it with a client today, or he wouldn't have wanted to sit on it.

"I really don't care." Kurt sniffed disdainfully, casting a glance at the other slave, who had just finished bringing the wooden tub from the cupboard and set it in front of the fireplace.

"Yes you do." Brittany said softly, "I'm scared as well. But I know we can both make it just fine."

She tried to smile encouragingly, but Kurt could tell she was afraid. He quickly pushed back the last of his own fear and focused solely on comfort.

"Britt, of course everything will be okay. I'm sure you'll be _treasured_ by whoever buys you." Kurt promised. He watched Brittany quickly push a tendril of hair back and head over to the window. It was hard to talk as they worked on filling his bath, but Madame had certain time constraints that they had to meet. They'd learnt how to fit conversation around those limits.

The other girl joined Brittany by the window and they lowered the rope where the guard below would attach buckets of water for easy transport to the top floor.

"And even if they're totally blind and can't see what a treasure you are, I know you're strong. You have hope, and friends, and you'll get out in time." Kurt always found the 'comforting others thing' hard, having so little faith in _anything_ himself.

"What if I _don't_ have friends, Kurt?" Brittany asked. He voice wavered, just a little, and he felt something in his chest clench. Kurt blinked carefully to make sure he was keeping dry-eyed. "What if they all leave me like… like Quinn and Santana?"

"Brittany you know you're friends would _never_ leave you intentionally." He fought the urge to kick the other girl as he spotted her rolling her eyes. "Madame sold Santana and Quinn because she got good offers for them. But wherever they went, I know they still love you. And you'll always have them with you…"

"In here." Brittany finished for him, holding a hand over the wrong side of her chest. Kurt smiled and nodded, but his friend still didn't look entirely comforted.

She turned away and tipped the first bucket of water into the large pot that the other girl hung over the fireplace.

"Thank you," Brittany said to Kurt, before turning to her helper. She jabbed a thumb toward the window, indicating for the other prostitute to go and collect the second bucket. "But Kurt what if he's mean?"

"Your new owner?" Kurt asked gently, and when she nodded he quickly continued. "I won't let Madame do that. She'll get specific instructions from me. You'll go to a good man, with credibility. And if she refuses to give her word that you'll go to a good home, I'll mess up with tomorrow's clients."

Brittany giggled. "You're so _naughty._"

He smirked and shrugged. "I get away with it."

There was a scoff from the window and, rapidly getting angry, Kurt turned to make eye contact, sporting his sneer of superiority.

"I'm sorry, did you want something?" Kurt asked blandly.

"It's just nice to confirm what an arrogant bastard you are once again. I hope you get sold to someone who'll beat you up every night." She responded without missing a beat.

"Aw," Kurt cooed, tilting his head to the side. "Are you jealous of me? _Still?_"

"_No one_ is jealous of you." The girl said, fists clenching. It was almost too easy to push her buttons.

"Says the girl turning green with envy. Now hurry with my bath, Madame wouldn't like it if I told her that _you_ were the reason it took so long." Kurt waved a hand. Just as the girl opened her mouth to retort, he watched her mind catching up with her actions. She snapped it shut again and whirled back to the window, yanking the rope up and yelling shrilly at the man below to hurry with the next bucket.

"Honey," Brittany looked sad. Kurt remembered how she hated confrontation. He still recalled the way his friendship with Santana and Quinn had begun, with a vicious cat-fight backed by the sound of Brittany calling for them to "stop the violence". The memory quickly became bitter as he considered the two years since he'd seen the girls.

"I'm sorry, keep talking." Kurt said.

"I'm not just scared of getting sold. I know you don't want to go either." Brittany said.

"I'll manage." Kurt said stiffly, eyes flickering back toward the slave by the window. He had to show no weakness. "I'll just go to another brothel and continue the same life there."

"I wish I could go with you." Brittany said sincerely, checking that the water wasn't boiling and removing the pot from the flames for a few seconds. Kurt watched her ruefully.

"You know that probably won't happen. It would be highly unlikely for us to be sold to the same place. Remember that I love you though." He said. He ignored the chortle from the window. "And wherever you go people will love you. If someone doesn't, you're stronger than them. In your own way, you've always been able to cope. I know you'll find a place wherever you end up. And you'll make that place beautiful."

This at least Kurt had faith in. Brittany was good at that. She always made her life beautiful just by being herself. He, on the other hand, turned everything into a world of ice.

Sometimes, lying alone at night, he wondered if he hated himself for it.

"You're the only true friend I have left." Brittany told him, eyes welling with tears.

Kurt swallowed the lump of grief in his throat. "Same with you,"

"We'll be okay." Brittany echoed, as the other girl joined her and poured two more buckets into the pot. She replaced it over the fire and the girl went back to draw more water.

After that they talked about other things; which important people were coming to town, whether the robins outside Brittany's window really were laying eggs, some interesting client Kurt had seen that day. It felt good to joke about those things. It helped him feel detached from his work, and involved with life. Focusing on other people was good.

By the time the bathtub was full, Kurt had forgotten the sulky little helper and relaxed again.

"Okay, we're ready!" Brittany told him, pushing up her sleeves and testing the water temperature. "Hop in!"

"_You_ can leave." Kurt waved a hand at the other prostitute.

"Madame instructed me to help with the whole thing." She said through gritted teeth.

"Well _I'm_ instructing you to go." Kurt's voice was dangerous. This only made her more defiant.

"Don't see why she even wants you cleaned up!" She growled, aiming to hurt his feelings. "You only fetch a good price because of the hype around your name. Not like you're anything more than a dirty little whore."

"I find it ironic that _you_ are calling _me_ a whore." Kurt tipped his head to one side, regarding her. He was so sick of these fights. "And as for not living up to the hype. Well, that's easily proved wrong."

He chuckled dismissively and carefully slipped his robe off, revealing the creamy skin beneath as he stepped into the bath. He didn't even make eye contact again as he sunk beneath the water and settled there. It was wonderfully warm. He took a moment to roll his shoulders and lean back before he opened his eyes again.

She was gaping at him from the doorway, eyes still roving over what she could see of his body.

"Leave now." Kurt said carelessly, waving a hand. He hated the look in her eyes actually, hated all those looks. But this was about proving a point and he wasn't about to let his own victory bother him. Kurt pushed down the sick feeling in his stomach. Immediately, the girl seemed to remember herself. She turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind herself.

…

Blaine ended up staying with the Chang's that night after all.

Someone had thought it would be funny if they slammed against his wagon wheel until it snapped to pieces.

After a lot of frustrated tears and futile attempts to reattach the wheel, Blaine realised that even with Mike's help, they wouldn't be able to fix the wheel themselves. So while it was off being fixed by the proper professional, Blaine carried his supplies into the Chang's home behind their store. They had the spare room ready in a moment. And he had to admit he wouldn't mind staying with them.

Even though the slave market started in in two nights, the wagon would hopefully be fixed by the end of the next day. Blaine would be out by that morning as the market began.

The conversation remained casual. No one dared bring up Kurt, but a few times during dinner Blaine found his mind wandering as he caught sight of the tea cup that was now sitting in the kitchen and he remembered the rosy lips that had drank from it.

Finally, after dinner was over and the fire was slowly dying, the conversation quietened, and Blaine carefully approached the topic of Kurt again.

"What's h-his life like?" He couldn't help asking. He didn't need to clarify who he was talking about, the Changs knew.

They could see the curiosity in his face. After years of avoiding anything to do with the slave trade, Blaine was suddenly curious about what things might be like for Kurt. He couldn't help it. Five hours of trying to forget Kurt had proved that wasn't happening, so Blaine may as well find out about him. Maybe what he heard would even put him off.

"Dreadful," Tina said sadly. Mike reached for her hand as he realised tears were already starting to well up in her brown eyes. She always cried too easily, especially over Kurt. "It's absolutely dreadful."

"H-how long has he…?" Blaine asked.

"He was in the brothel already when we moved here. He doesn't tell us much, but we know enough. I-" Tina paused and glanced and Mike. "I don't know if I'm allowed to tell you. It was in confidence."

"Oh of course," Blaine flushed. "I'm sorry I was just curious. He-"

But this time it was Blaine who broke off. Mike smiled encouragingly at him. "Go on."

"He's not like anyone I've ever seen before." Blaine finished in a rush.

"Well that's why he's worth so much." There was bitterness in Tina's voice now. "He's a rarity."

"Tina," Mike warned gently. He'd seen enough of her rants on the subject of Kurt's enslavement to spot when her wet eyes and clenched fists were leading to another one. "It's okay, this is _Blaine_ we're talking about. He's not interested in Kurt because of that. Breathe."

They exchanged a long look, and Blaine quickly looked away. They said everything just by watching each other, with no words. He could see the way Mike tried to plead with Tina, and the way she calmed just looking at him. He could see that Mike understood why she wasn't willing to tell Blaine about Kurt, and he could see that Tina knew Blaine would never use that information again Kurt. They slowly came to a joint decision. The moment was so intimate he felt intrusive… and incredibly lonely.

"Look Blaine, the thing is Kurt's situation is crazily complicated. You know he doesn't even- he doesn't legally own himself. He never can again, now that all legal records of him have been converted into property ownership papers. He's not really considered a person anymore. He's a slave." Mike spoke with disgust evident in his tone, and Blaine watched his thumb trace across the back of Tina's hand as he spoke. Tina was sniffling quietly, and she gripped Mike's hand like a lifeline. "It's disgusting, we hate it, but Kurt made sure we understood there was no way of changing it. As soon as we starting getting close, he made sure we knew that he wasn't in charge of his own life. He could disappear at any moment and we'd never know what happened. He warned us not to be friends with him, but you could practically taste his relief when we insisted we'd remain friends no matter what other people treated him as. He… He really doesn't have many friends, and he doesn't easily let them in. He cherishes the ones he has, but he's resigned to his fate. That's something you have to understand. The real Kurt is locked deep inside him. Everyone else gets the cold mask. That's how he protects himself."

"I understand," Irrational anger against the government in general was building in Blaine as he remembered the quiet boy from downstairs, who had held himself with such forced arrogance, like a shield.

"He never lets strangers in. Most people out here want him for money… or s-sex. That's how the world sees him. It sucks, but Blaine, he wouldn't be good for you. Don't fall for him. You're attracted to him, I'm pretty sure he'd have seen it, and so he could never trust you." Mike was searching Blaine's eyes. "He doesn't trust men who are interested in him that way. For him, it leads to only one thing."

"That's really unfair." Blaine wasn't sure what else he could say. He just wished he could _fix_ this. And not just because Kurt was beautiful and Blaine thought he deserved to be saved, but because the whole idea of slavery always sickened him.

"Kurt has the right to push people away if he doesn't feel safe." Tina said indignantly, and it took Blaine a moment to realise that she'd misinterpreted his statement.

"I mean the Slave Trade. That's unfair. Not- not Kurt being opposed to trusting me. I get that." Blaine amended. The fight left Tina's face right away.

"You should forget him." Mike continued. "We would love for Kurt to have someone like you, Blaine. But he just isn't ready and he'd be so mad if he knew we were telling you any of this. He just wants to remain anonymous. He says he can be happy as long as he has his walks and his books. He doesn't want company. Other than a few trusted friends."

"He _must_ want to get out of the brothel though." Blaine said.

"I don't think he does anymore." Tina's breath hitched. "He's so used to it. He's made a life that works for himself. Kurt knows his life isn't changing anytime soon. He's made it work. So that's why we have to ask you to leave him alone. If you start trying to see him, or anything or that sort – especially if you fall in love with him – that will mess up everything he's been so careful to build up."

"I'm not going to _fall in love_ with him." Blaine told his mug of warm tea, refusing to look Tina in the eye, because now that she was warning him, he understood why he'd needed the warning.

He saw a whole possible future unravel. He saw the way he would have gone home thinking about the elfin boy, and after some time of never forgetting him, come back to Laurel Hill. And maybe he would have tried to see Kurt. Maybe he would have become desperate and even paid for a night with him. And Kurt would have slowly begun to despise Blaine as Blaine moped around the edges of his life like a lovesick puppy. There was a strong possibility Blaine would have fallen head over heels for Kurt. And Kurt would only be disgusted in return. He'd feel uncomfortable around him. Blaine would be heartbroken. Kurt's carefully organised life would be shattered by the annoyance of having an obsessed admirer.

Blaine knew he couldn't do that. And so he was glad for Tina's warning. Without it, he might have thought he was doing Kurt a favour. He might have gone to the brothel, paying fee after fee, and begged Kurt to come home with him during each time slot.

Now he knew he wouldn't be saving Kurt if he tried any of that. He would only make the boy's life harder. If Blaine couldn't forget Kurt, he'd have to go back to the Mainland and find himself a different husband. That way he'd still find love, and get over the fantasy.

"But thank you," Blaine added. "I guess you're right."

"Blaine you _will_ find someone. I just don't think Kurt _wants_ someone." Mike reached out and gave Blaine a pat on the shoulder.

"Thanks guys," Blaine stood and walked over to rinse his cup in the kitchen, his tone became lighter as he looked back at them. "I'm glad I have some friends here among this town of ruffians."

"We're glad we have you too Blaine. Always come and talk to us if you need anything." Tina's tears had finally stopped as she smiled at Blaine.

"Goodnight guys," Blaine gave a little wave, and then headed off to his guest bed. He could hear Tina laughing softly through the thin walls as the couple got ready for bed together, and Mike's fond replies.

All over again, loneliness hit Blaine.

…

"Was that bullying?" Brittany asked Kurt. Her sweet face was creased with concern. "Calling you a whore? It was, wasn't it? Are you okay?"

"It was Brittany, but I'm alright. We're used to it." Kurt forced a smile onto his face. At least this kind of smile was the one he didn't mind faking. It was a smile meant to make someone he cared about feel better.

"We are." Brittany agreed. She started to wash his hair, and Kurt let the atmosphere sink into a companionable silence.

Now that Brittany was here, he never wanted her to leave. He couldn't stand it that he was never seeing her again. Maybe they would _both _be purchased by another brothel. And then they could stay together. He hated the idea of what might happen if Brittany didn't have his protection. She was so fragile, like a child. When they'd lost their other friends, she'd cried for days. Especially over the loss of Santana.,,

Kurt didn't like to think about Santana. He didn't like thinking about any of the people he'd lost. And he didn't want to lose another person.

Suddenly the bath wasn't so relaxing.

"Are you done?" Kurt asked. Brittany hummed softly in affirmation, taking a bowl of water and pouring it over his head to wash the suds out of his hair.

"Kurt, do we have to get sold?" Brittany asked suddenly, right as he wiped the water from his eyes. Kurt blinked rapidly before meeting her gaze. He searched her vulnerable face.

"Fuck," Kurt sighed. This is why he didn't like to make friends. He could comfort Brittany a million times that her new life would be okay, and she'd still want to stay with him, and he'd still want to stay with her. So everything just hurt. "We really have to be sold. It's not up to us."

Brittany's face fell, though he could tell that she'd already known the answer.

"Can't I just stay with you?" She asked. "One more night."

"Madame won't let you." Kurt pointed out, standing and grabbing a towel, wrapping it around his waist in time to hug Brittany. "But you'll be okay without me Britt, I know you will."

She started crying in earnest then, clinging to him, and Kurt feel his blood run cold as a loud knocking began on the other side of his door. He was a little proud to find his eyes were still completely dry though. All his emotions were in deep inside, choking him, but not escaping him. Where they were meant to be.

When no one answered the first knock, the door swung open and he looked up to see one of the guards standing there.

"The Butterfly Girl needs to come with us now." He said gruffly. Kurt's arms tightened around Brittany as he gave the guard his best _are you kidding me?_ face and kept hugging her. She was becoming hysterical.

"I don't want to go." Brittany's whimpering, her fingers digging into his back. Kurt hushed her gently, watching as the guard left and returned a moment later with company.

"Britt it's okay." He promised, trying to calm her down. But the guards each grabbed an arm and started to tear her away from Kurt.

"Fuck off!" Kurt growled. "Give us a moment."

They just yanked on Brittany harder and one of them got in Kurt's way as he tried to keep hold. He debated giving up, keeping the front of detachment. But instead Kurt threw his weight against them, because now Brittany's screaming.

"Britt it's okay!" He yelled, hating that he sounded a little scared. He stopped struggling and hung out of his door as they dragged her down the hall to her own room. "Brittany!"

"_Please!_" she sobbed, reaching out toward Kurt. He saw other doors opening and suddenly he was being watched. Kurt stopped his chest from heaving and leant casually against the doorframe.

"It's okay," He said steadily, retaining eye contact with his only friend. Brittany squeezed her own eyes shut and gave in at last. The guards slammed the door after her.

Kurt hoped it wouldn't be the last time he saw her.


	3. Market Day

I'm really sorry this has taken me so long. I will probably be a while with each chapter because school is really full-on for me at the moment. Thank you for your patience.

* * *

The next day Kurt woke to the clang of the bell. It always rang out through the slaves' quarters at dawn, and if one of the prostitutes in the King's Castle didn't come out within fifteen minutes of the first ring, they were punished.

Kurt groaned and turned over in bed, forcing his eyes open. His first thought was of his friend. He remembered Brittany's terrified screams, and how she'd been crying hysterically as the guards dragged her away. Brittany probably hadn't slept at all. Unless they'd knocked her out, which would be highly likely. They wouldn't want her having dark circles under her eyes the next day.

Quickly, he swung out of bed and grabbed the clothes he'd discarded the night before. Kurt was often the first awake, because he'd learnt long ago just how awful consequences could be if he wasn't out in time. And as he locked his shoulders back in his usual false confidence before opening his door, he saw that the morning before Market Day was no exception.

Likely most the girls were taking a gamble and sleeping in because they knew they weren't going to have any really bad punishments before being sold the next day.

Kurt had a job to do though. During his morning check-in with Madame he'd have to secure Brittany the promise of a good home. So he smiled sweetly at the guard that was always waiting. The grouchy man (they always hated being up early) gave Kurt a sour glance and stopped his incessant ringing of the bell.

"Name?" He asked, as if he didn't already know. As if he'd never taken the morning roll call before. As if everyone in Laurel Hill didn't know Kurt. They just liked making Kurt state his degrading title. So he did it with a smile, just so the guard wouldn't get any satisfaction.

"Little Princess," He told him. The grunt he got in response was hardly a proper acknowledgement, but Kurt took it as his cue to leave. He pattered neatly down the staircase, through the foyer, and stood outside Madame's door. The second guard was waiting there.

"Did you get your name checked off upstairs?" He asked. Already he was looking Kurt up and down, hunger apparent in his expression.

"I did." Kurt said coldly. He was glad he was wearing his baggier clothes, meaning the guard couldn't really objectify him in quite the same manner.

"I'll see if Madame's ready to begin the morning check-ins yet." The guard said, still not turning around to do so. "But first, what was your name again?"

"Little Princess," Kurt repeated, letting no emotion show on his face.

"That's right." The man said, giving Kurt a very lewd wink before hammering on the door beside them.

"What?" Madame sounded sharp, and the guard's manner quickly became more humble.

"Sorry M'am, but the first one's here to see you." The guard said politely through a crack in the door.

"What are you waiting for then?" Madame asked. The guard immediately stepped back and let Kurt through. Kurt saw the annoyance in his eyes and tensed slightly. As the guard reached out a hand to 'accidentally' touch him, Kurt jerked the door shut so closely behind himself that it caught the guard's fingers.

"Princess," Madame greeted. "First again, I'm impressed."

Kurt just nodded, trying to ignore the obnoxious sight of the breakfast she had laid out on her desk. She always did this, and it always made his stomach clench with hunger. She liked to eat in front of her slaves, almost like a further reminder that she was in charge. It certainly worked, because Kurt wanted nothing more than a piece of the warm bread with a strip of the crispy bacon she was currently shoveling into her mouth.

"Now as usual, I have your schedule for the day. You'll be finished by four o'clock. Each session is written out on your chalkboard like always, but you may notice we have two sessions with extra ten minute blocks added on. That's not a mistake, both customers paid extra for that time." Kurt nodded stiffly, and she continued.

"As for the rest of the afternoon, today will be our testing day. I'll send some girls in to come up with concept ideas for your hair and makeup. It'll be pretty close to your usual look, but I want to glamorize it." She began to spread liberal amounts of butter onto more bread. Kurt willed his stomach not to growl.

"Can I see Brittany at breakfast, or must I wait until dinner time?" Kurt asked. He doubted they'd have corresponding breaks at lunch time, seeing as they never did. Madame liked to keep friends apart until all the clients had been served. It helped keep the prostitutes 'in the zone' apparently. Kurt was pretty sure the real reason the rule had been invented was because Brittany and Santana had started sleeping together and become suspiciously worn out after the lunch breaks they shared.

"Oh Princess, did I not tell you? You won't see the Butterfly girl again. It causes far too much disturbance." Madame waved a dismissive hand. She was completely unbothered that she'd just told her favorite slave that his last proper meeting with his best friend would be the one where she was dragged away from him, screaming. Kurt's jaw clenched, but he kept his temper at bay.

"I see," He said slowly. He may as well launch straight into things then. "Speaking of Brittany, did I tell you the special conditions of her sale tomorrow?"

"Princess, _I_ decide the conditions of all sales." It was Madame's turn to look nervous, but she hid it well. "I do _own_ you after all."

"Oh, well it _could_ still be your decision if you don't mind me messing up colossally with today's clients." Kurt shrugged, subtly weaving in his blackmail. "It's really up to you."

There was a long moment of silence. He could tell that Madame was trying to gauge whether he was serious. Kurt hardly ever asked her for anything. But when he did, he made sure there was no way she could refuse him.

"What conditions would you like me to add then, love?" Madame adopted her usual appearance of pretending she was doing Kurt a favour.

"When Brittany is sold, she goes to a nice home. I don't care if the person doesn't give you the best deal. She goes to someone who will love her and cherish her." He said.

"Of course," Madame nodded quickly. She seemed relieved at how simple his request was. "Of course I'll do that."

"I'm not _finished_." Kurt warned. "I want the agreement in writing, so you can't back down. And if she's sold to anyone _I_ wouldn't approve of, I will get you in huge trouble."

Her composure slipped.

"How much money do you think I can afford to lose?" She snapped. Kurt's eyes roved over the indulgent breakfast in front of her, but he didn't point out to her how much extravagance she could already afford.

"You'll get more than enough gold from selling me. Sell me to the highest bidder. I don't give a fuck who they are. Just be satisfied with the money you're getting from me, and make sure Brittany has a good home." Kurt really didn't care where he ended up, so long as it wasn't ownership under a single master. And the highest bidder could only be another brothel anyway. No single person was rich enough to afford him.

Madame was already scribbling out her statement. Kurt waited until she'd signed it off, and then reached for it greedily. She handed it over with a slight pout, but seemed okay with making the deal.

"Thank you, Madame." Kurt let real gratitude seep into his tone and he clutched the paper close. "Thank you very much."

"Least I could do for my favorite." She said, smiling again. He could see her mind had already moved on to the rest of the day, and the work she had to do to prepare all of her slaves for market.

Kurt gave a little bow and left the room, passing the gathering line of girls and heading straight to the dining hall. He needed to get some food into him before he began the day's work.

…

Blaine spent the morning in the General Store helping the Changs. He had to admit, it hadn't been too bad. Though most of the men coming through were hard and crude, Blaine had always had good people skills and he was still able to keep up his cheerful manner even when Tina became short with certain customers.

Although he really didn't blame her for getting so easily frustrated. Every man that entered would stare at Tina, simply because the sight of a woman as so rare. The fact that Tina was pretty didn't really help the fact. It was lucky that even these rough men would still respect the fact that Tina was married while her husband was in the room though. If they'd done anything more than stare, Blaine thought the vein that pulsed in Mike's forehead might actually burst.

After they'd closed up the General Store (there was no way they would be able to keep things running smoothly during the Market and so the shop wouldn't open until it was over), Blaine went off to collect his wagon. It has been in the shop long enough, and he was eager to take it back to the Changs and finally get ready to go home.

He managed to squeeze his way through the crowds of people already filling the streets, and panicked slightly when he saw that the shop was all closed up. He took the stairs leading to the door in one step and hammered his fist on the wood. After a moment, the door was flung open by a frustrated looking man who seemed to be in the middle of putting on a coat.

"Look I get that all you travelers need basic repairs, the trip to town has been a long one. But I'm getting ready to go to the Slave Market just like you and I really don't have the time to take on any more projects right now."

"Oh no, I'm not a new customer! I dropped off a wagon yesterday! For repairs to the wheel?" Blaine asked quickly, narrowly avoiding having the door slammed in his face. He gave his best friendly smile. The man looked him up and down, finally seeming to recognize him.

The man grunted. "I thought I told you the deadline. You'll have to wait till the end of the Market. There's no way I can get all my work done before tomorrow, and I'm not working during the holiday."

"Wait, but Market day always extends over the weekend!" Blaine shouted as the door began to shut again. When the man paused again he quickly continued, voice softer, more desperate. "That's three days at least. I need it fixed before then."

The man simply shook his head. He looked genuinely regretful. "Just can't do it, sorry kid."

Though Blaine tried to stop the door from closing one last time, it was to no avail.

He was going to be stuck in town.

During the Slave Market.

Great.

…

"Goodbye sweetheart," Kurt crooned, running his index finger along the jawline of his last client before helping him to button his coat. "I'll miss you."

The man leered down at Kurt as he acted his way through the last seconds of their appointment.

"I'll miss you too, Princess. Maybe I'll have to come find you at whatever Brothel you move on to next." He winked in what was probably meant to be a saucy manner. Kurt faked shyness, ducking his head. This guy liked the whole 'innocent' act and it was frankly getting rather tiring.

"I'd like that," He murmured. The man in front of him looked extremely smug. Luckily for Kurt, there wasn't time for him to insist on a goodbye kiss. A loud bell echoed through the room from the corridor outside. Kurt looked up at the big clock on his wall as if he was disappointed to see the time.

"That's your cue." He said sadly, nudging the man toward the door and swinging it open. All down the hall Kurt could see other patrons leaving their own prostitutes. The guard was currently hammering on one of the doors that hadn't opened. Sometimes men pushed their luck and had to be forcibly removed from the bedrooms.

"See you later." The man gave him a pat on the rear and Kurt giggled. He wiggled his fingers in goodbye as the client finally stepped out into the hallway, placing his hat back on.

He seemed like he was about to turn back and say something else, but Kurt shut the door in his face.

The flirty smile dropped from Kurt's lips, replaced with a look of disgust. He shuddered and ran a hand through his hair. He was pretty sure it had been the worst working day he'd suffered through in a _long_ time. Every single client had been demanding, over-confident and _horrible. _It had taken everything in him not to scream at some of them to leave before their time was up. He was still so wound tight he felt close to an explosion. Everything was becoming too much for him to handle. But Kurt Hummel always handled things. He had to.

With a sigh, He started stripping the covers off the huge bed. He deposited them in the laundry basket in the corner and then went to take the cushions off both chairs as well. It had been a busy day and he'd pretty much moved over the entire room. He took a bit of vindictive pleasure in the idea of how much work he was leaving for Madame.

When he finally cleaned everything up he stripped as quickly as possible, throwing the robe he'd slipped hurriedly on across the room with sudden ferociously.

The anger swooped down so abruptly that he had to take a moment just to breathe and stop himself from kicking something. He realized he'd been shaking since the moment he shut the door.

"Now is not the time," He hissed to the empty room. "Don't lose control."

But he was really falling apart. The muscles in his lower back were already aching and he could feel other parts of his body beginning to became raw and tender as well. Considering he'd probably spend the night getting acquainted with his new owner, it pissed Kurt off to no end.

And he wouldn't have a chance to properly relieve himself for a while. He was embarrassingly still a little hard from his previous client, but Kurt had no time to take care of it. He never allowed the men who paid for him to make him come. It was one of the rules he settled with himself; one of the only things that kept him in control of his own body. And it was certainly effective at keeping his job separate from who he really was, but it did leave him awfully frustrated when he had no time alone for days on end.

On top of the madness of his clients and his own needs, there were a ton of other things going wrong; he wasn't going to see Brittany again, he was being sold, he hadn't told the Changs about it, and he was still beating himself up for being terrified about the whole prospect.

"Breathe," As he whispered the order to himself, Kurt sank to the floor and lent against his bent knees, hurriedly gasping in air.

He knew he only had about ten minutes before Madame sent the girls up to start working on his look for sale day. He couldn't be going crazy when they arrived.

He had to stop thinking about everything. He knew his life would never be perfect. It shouldn't bother him anymore.

He forced himself to turn his mind away from everything he'd done that day. It usually wasn't hard to do, but sometimes he would get into these consuming loops where he would dwell on everything. He wished Santana was there to slap him across the face or start talking loudly about how dreadful all of their clients were in bed. He wished Quinn was there to remind him he was better than all those men who paid for him. He wished Brittany was there to pull him to his feet and start teaching him one of her made-up dances. He wished Tina and Mike where there to talk about wonderfully domestic things that would distract him. He wished his old family where there and he'd never _ever_ lost them. He wished Blaine was-

"What the _fuck_?" Kurt asked himself aggressively, pushing up from his hunched position on the floor. "No you don't."

He walked through to his own room and started throwing on the loose clothes he wore when he wasn't working.

Where had that even _come_ from? He hadn't thought about Blaine since the day before, and it wasn't like he even _knew_ the guy. He really was feeling stupidly lonely… Enough that his subconscious made him grasp onto random guys in the General Store.

At least Blaine's name and the shock of it being there had been enough to startle him out of his spiraling freak-out.

By the time someone else knocked on Kurt's door and he opened it to let the two slaves in to start making him over, he was completely calm.

…

The next day Kurt woke very early to someone dragging him out of bed and shoving him through to the bathroom downstairs. After debating whether or not to call some cutting remark after them for waking him so brutally, he stood in the shower and let the cold water run over himself. With a groan, he tried to massage the pain out of his lower back. It was throbbing from the day before. He knew he shouldn't have done so much stretching, but the clients had wanted it and…

He stopped that thought before he ended up on the floor again. The previous day had been really bad, and after a year he still wasn't used to not having Santana around to scoff over each client with until he felt less traumatized by the situation. Maybe if he'd got to see Brittany he could have just talked to her about it. Mocking the men always helped Kurt feel more detached from the situation. It stopped his thoughts from being quite so self-deprecating.

_Ah well,_ Kurt thought bitterly as he quickly snagged his fingers through his tangled hair, _At least I don't have to do much actual work today._

If Kurt was calculating things correctly, it would take the other slaves about an hour to recreate the look they'd settled on the previous night. Then he'd be taken off to Market and locked up behind the King's Castle stall until his sale time. He figured that would be around two o'clock, when the crowds were swelling with people Madame had finished building up the hype.

When his shower was finished he suffered in silence in one of the downstairs dressing rooms as the two slaves recreated his look.

He winced but didn't complain as the girls prepared his hair the same way they'd practiced the day before. The usual sweep upward was joined by a series of absolutely minuscule plaits, tossed through the coiffed hair in delicately woven layers. This apparently added a touch of subtle but radiant beauty. Kurt wasn't too sold on the idea. He preferred his usual look. It wasn't so degradingly… girly.

When they were finished, the hands became gentler as they started on his makeup. Careful smooth pink color was spread over his lips. Imperfections were wiped out with a hint of powder. His eyelashes were coated and then the eyes themselves were lined with black.

Just before they were done with the finishing touches, the door swung open to reveal Madame. She watched the last moments of work, and then waved the girls back to the corners of the room.

"Take off the robe." She told Kurt. He kept his face carefully neutral as he slipped off the garment he'd been left after his shower. He had wondered why he wasn't given his special Market Day clothes to put on, but now he understood why. Inspection.

The two girls were still there, giggling behind their hands as they stared, unashamed, at his body. Madame didn't seem to notice them. Her expression was purely business as she walked in a circle around him, examining every inch. It really did make Kurt feel like an object. A possession. He hated that after all this time he still had the urge to cover himself up. It wasn't like his body was his own. It wasn't like he was anything more than a possession anyway.

As Madame indicated for him to twirl for her, he felt a twist of bitterness.

It was a while before she moved up to his face, indicating for him to open his mouth and show his teeth, and then checking all of his makeup. At one point she even beckoned a girl forward and took the eyeliner from her to make both sides match to her satisfaction.

When she was finally done, her calculating smile reappeared and she sat in her own chair, gesturing for Kurt to sit in his. He quickly slipped his robe back on, shooting a haughty glance at the girls by the door. They collapsed into laughter.

Though Kurt ignored them with an inner scoff, Madame turned on them.

"What on _earth_ is wrong? It's not like you've never seen a man without his clothes on before!" She snapped. One of the girls managed to stop laughing, slapping her friend on the arm. Kurt almost wished he paid more attention to the other slaves' names, because he'd dearly love to address them scathingly by name right now.

"We've never seen the Little Princess properly _naked_." The girl said, "He's exactly what I always imagined."

"Oh _god,_" Her friend elbowed her, obviously trying to make her shut up, but she hadn't stopped laughing either. You'd think they'd know by now to be more respectful in front of the women who literally held control of everything in their lives.

"Both of you, be silent!" Madame said, voice dangerous. "I doubt the Little Princess is the most attractive man you've ever seen. You'd think you two were blushing little virgins."

The smiles faded from their faces immediately. They could tell she was angry.

"Sorry, Madame," Both girls said together, curtsying quickly. "We didn't mean to offend you."

"Your immaturity would be enough to offend anyone. Now go and try and make yourselves presentable so I at least get _some_ profit from you." She waved a hand and didn't bother even watching as they scampered from the room.

Kurt still hadn't moved from his state of quiet disdain. He wasn't really sure how to respond to Madame's reaction. He was fairly sure it sprung out of annoyance at having their cackling to put up with as opposed to any sort of actual sympathy for him. When she turned and massaged her temples a moment, his suspicions were confirmed.

"I'm so sick of those snotty little girls." She sighed. "I mean being no older than seventeen doesn't give them an excuse."

Kurt felt a pang of sorrow. He hated learning the ages of other slaves. It was hard to simply hate the two girls when he realized just how young they were. As Kurt tried to remind himself how bitchy even the younger girls could be, he noticed that Madame was done trying to abate her headache and was now watching him.

"How are you feeling?" She asked shrewdly.

"Fine," Kurt responded blandly, easily pushing other thoughts from his mind.

There was a moment's pause as he looked back into her uncaring eyes.

"You know you've always been my favorite. Despite your occasional cheek." Madame told him, sickeningly condescending. "I've never met another slave with such poise and such skill."

Kurt ducked his head. He didn't want to think about it, especially not when he was already so unstable. He really hated these conversations. Madame seemed to like having them though. She seemed to think that reminding him of her favor would make him more compliant. She seemed to think that reminding of how skilled he was in the bedroom would put him in a _good_ mood.

"You know when you first came here I was skeptical of what the previous owner promised of your talent. But when I sent in my man to test you out, I received the best feedback I've _ever_ had. And you were so young; it's been wonderful to watch your talents grow even stronger as the years went by. The whole town wants a turn in your bed. You've achieved so much!" She looked expectant. Kurt forced a smile.

For some reason that made Madame laugh.

"That's my boy! Always the charmer!" She reached out and Kurt managed not to flinch as she gave his hand what was meant to be a comforting squeeze.

"I think I'm going to miss you. I'll really miss all the wonderful praise you brought to this place. I'll miss your pretty little face and I might even miss your spunk." She suddenly seemed overcome with emotion, and Kurt's discomfort swelled.

"Oh Little Princess, I'm going to miss _you_." She cooed, grabbing him and pulling him into a rib crushing hug. Kurt stiffened at the contact and bit back a surprised yelp. Very carefully, he forced himself to return her hug.

"I'll miss you too." He lied. Because she was wrong. She wouldn't miss _him._ She would miss the business he brought and the willing little slave she though he was.

Madame pulled back with glossy eyes.

"This is the end then. I can't wait to see what price you fetch m'dear."

And with that typical last line, she left, sending in the guards to take him to the cart that would transport him to the market.

…

Blaine woke up late the next morning, and when he stumbled sleepily into the kitchen he was full of apologies. The Changs rolled their eyes at each other and told him to shut up before Tina sat him down and set a steaming bowl of porridge in front of him.

"Wow, thank you," Blaine gasped, sprinkling sugar over it before digging in. Mike was filling what looked like a second round of porridge for himself, and Tina settled in the window nook overlooking the street below, a cup of tea in her hands.

"What's happening outside?" Blaine asked, unable to see from where he was sitting.

"The slave carts have started coming in. They always start arriving around now, so they can parade their wares down the streets first." Tina frowned down at the street below her.

"What's the time?" Blaine asked. He had no idea what time of day the actual Market began.

"Around quarter to ten. The market starts in forty five minutes." Mike informed him with a grimace, guessing what he was wondering. "Be prepared to have Tina glaring out the window the whole day."

"You know I hate not knowing what's going on. We had to close the shop, so there's not much else to do." Tina sighed, and turned back to Mike. "And Kurt won't be able to visit until after the market so I can't help but worry about him. You know how depressed he gets at this time of year."

At the sight of Blaine confusion, she continued. "The market every two months is bad enough! At least it's always a lot smaller then, but this big one in the middle of summer is the worst. On top of that, it reminds Kurt of losing his old friends, Quinn and Santana. This is when they were sold."

"Why can't he visit us though?" Blaine asked despite himself. "Wouldn't that cheer him up? Seeing you guys?"

"Well they never let him go out during market time. He works pretty much non-stop for all the new people in town." Tina's fists clenched.

"Oh," Blaine felt a little sick at the thought of Kurt serving people all day.

"He has Brittany, Tina. He'll be fine." Mike assured her. They'd both met Brittany a dozen or so times because over the time they'd known Kurt, she had been allowed out on some of his walks. They both really liked her, and seemed to have faith in her abilities to look after their friend. In any case, the statement seemed to calm Tina.

Before Blaine could ask who Brittany was, Mike changed the topic, asking him about the farm. He filled Mike in on how he'd finally settled the borders for his farmland and gotten all the paper-work sorted.

As they got more absorbed in the conversation, they didn't notice the way Tina suddenly lurched upright, gripping the curtains for support as she stared intently out of the window.

"…I mean it will mostly be other food farms. I doubt many people would bring animals my side of the valley since th-"

"Look at this!" Tina gasped, cutting off Blaine's explanation.

Mike was standing in a flash at the sound of his wife's panic. Blaine followed, joining them in the window in time to see the cart that Tina was pointing at come into full view past a group of men on the sidewalk.

Blaine couldn't see what was so special about it at first. He'd seen slave carts before, and this one looked just the same. Three rows of wooden benches on each cart with the slaves chained down at the ankle as they sat in rows. There were five carts moving together down the road, with the same sign on the side, "King's Castle, home of the famous Little Princess."

Blaine knew that name. He felt a thud of dread.

"Please tell me that isn't Kurt," Tina begged. She sounded heart-broken. Blaine's own heart caught in his throat as he stared even harder.

There was something strikingly familiar about the slave right at the front of the first cart. His rigid posture, the proud tilt to his head, the sweep of hair…

She was right.

Kurt was being taken to market.

…

Kurt had completely blocked out the jeering from the men that had stopped to watch their passage across town. He sat up straight and confident in his new clothes, crossing and uncrossing his legs so that they could all watch the shift of muscles, of reaching up to brush a hand across his hair so that his top would lift enough to give a flash of skin. If the loud cat-calls were anything to go by, he was doing his job in drawing a good crowd to the market later. Madame would be pleased.

Kurt's mouth tilted in a little half-smile. He channeled just enough charm and coy, aloof attitude to make everyone curious for more; even if they hadn't already heard about him.

He looked vaguely at the surrounding faces, not really making eye-contact, but doing enough to intrigue and excite the men who thought he'd looked at them. A few arguments broke out.

It was then that Kurt noticed the nearest street sign and withdrew his gaze from nothingness to make sure he'd read it right. He had.

Kurt really hadn't thought through his journey at all. He planned how he would look and act, but he had completely forgotten which streets the cart would travel down. He'd completely forgotten that the Changs' store would be en route.

Kurt suddenly felt a little sick.

He kept his distant smile on his face, but now his mind was whirring with sudden worry.

He hated himself for storming out of the store without telling them that he was being sold. He'd never even been able to say goodbye. _Stupid Blaine,_ he thought angrily, fists clenching on the rough bench that was jerking with each movement of the cart.

Kurt knew Tina would be looking out the window. As they came closer and closer, he still hadn't decided if he was going to look up and wave, or keep staring straight ahead. Both options seemed equally gut-wrenching.

In the end, the decision was made for him. The cart suddenly jerked to a stop right in front of the General Store.

There was a long moment as Kurt sat there, frozen. He didn't really think about why they would be stopping, he just knew he had to say goodbye in the only way he still could.

Kurt took a deep breath, and looked up.

The light was reflecting off the window, and making things a little harder to see. He could make out the shapes of Tina and Mike, and he raised a hand in greeting, a brief bright smile splitting his face. He had to make sure they knew he was okay, even if they were confused.

But as his wave became more enthusiastic, he noticed something else. Something that made him freeze, smile dropping.

There was a third person in the window.

That person clapped their hands to their mouth and quickly stepped out of sight, but Kurt thought he recognized the small stature, the curls and the friendly posture.

Blaine.

Blaine staying in the Changs' house.

Before Kurt could even process this, something else made him lose focus entirely.

"…The Butterfly Girl-" A man was saying, handing a piece of paper to the guard driving Kurt's cart.

He whirled around, unsure whether he'd heard what he thought he'd just heard.

They could not be talking about Brittany.

"Well that's Madame's signature all right." The Driver grunted, handing the reigns to his second in command. "Alf, keep the horses here, I'll go and help them collect her. Pass me the keys"

"Wait!" Kurt gasped, reaching a hand out to catch hold of his sleeve as he took the keys from Alf, and almost toppling off the side of the cart as he did so. "Did you say Madame wants Br-The Butterfly Girl?"

"Yes," He yanked his arm back, snatching the keys out of Kurt's reach as if he thought he was about to steal them. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Why?" Kurt demanded, glaring at the guards who had brought the news. "Why's she want Brittany?"

"The Butterfly girl has been sold." They sneered at him, and then turned to the driver. "Hurry up then, Madame doesn't like to be kept waiting."

The Driver turned to hop off the cart. Kurt felt like he was about to explode again. He could only think of one reason Madame would suddenly call Brittany back to the King's Castle, and he didn't like it one bit.

"No!" Kurt tried to swing over the driver's bench and follow him off the cart. His ankle snapped him back and he remembered, too late, that he was chained to his seat. Alf grabbed his arm and yanked him backward so hard that Kurt cried out in pain.

"Don't hurt him!" The Driver said. "We'll get in trouble if he has bruises. Damaged goods don't sell for quite the same price."

Kurt was on his feet again, furious. Everyone was eyeing him with vague amusement.

"Let me off this cart." He said sternly. "Take me _back_!"

"Sit down." Alf growled at him. Kurt surged forward, refusing to comply with their demands. But two strong arms wrapped around his waist, and Alf held him captive.

"Madame can't sell Brittany if I'm not there!" Kurt shouted, tugging at the restraint around his ankle with all his might. "Tell her I have to be there."

"We aren't telling her squat you little fucker, sit down!" The Driver bellowed. Kurt kicked out furiously, but it didn't have any effect. In his sudden panic, it only made him kick harder.

He knew now what Madame must be doing. She was selling Brittany out of Kurt's sight, so that he couldn't complain about who she was sold to. He'd have no idea whether Brittany had gone to a good home. That must have been Madame's plan all along.

"Let go of me!" Kurt screamed, thrashing madly.

Laughter rose up all around. He finally remembered the crowds watching.

One of the guards stayed with Alf, while the other two men left to get Brittany and drag her off to whatever fate they had in store for her.

Alf held Kurt down, but he was putting up a huge fight. He knew he should be embarrassed of the tears streaming from his eyes, or the high pitched screeches he was emitting. He really didn't care about himself anymore.

He just wanted Brittany to be safe.

Vaguely, Kurt was aware of the crowd gathering to watch, of Tina and Mike calling for him to calm down, of the two guards discussing how to make him shut up. But all he could focus on was that his best friend in all the world was about to be sold, and it must be to someone awful, or Madame wouldn't have tried to hide it from him.

He was terrified, but when his desperate eyes swept the crowd, he barely even noticed Mike and Tina as they ran out of the shop. He barely even noticed when Blaine followed. He barely registered that it was Blaine's wide blown eyes he stared into last of all.

A sudden blow to the head made everything go dark.

The last thing he heard was a voice saying, "it's okay, you can't see bruises under his hair."

Kurt tried to laugh as blackness engulfed him. Of course that was all they cared about.

…


	4. Auction

Here's the next chapter. This one actually took quite a bit of research on gold value round this time period that turned out mostly inconclusive. However, because this is set in an alternate universe that is not out own, we can just pretend that the prices of the slaves mentioned in this chapter are all correct (they should be mostly right anyway because as I said I did a lot of research and made them as accurate as possible with the limited info I had.) But if you have any questions about the gold or the auction system, or anything, just ask!

* * *

Ten minutes after Kurt had been dragged away, Blaine was sitting in complete shock in the back room of the General Store with Mike and Tina, lacking any solid memory of how he'd gotten there.

Tina was sobbing, mumbling incoherent things into Mike's arms. Her husband seemed to be holding back tears, cooing to her in a voice rough with sorrow. Blaine had turned away slightly, giving them some privacy. He felt stupid because he'd never really know Kurt, and yet he was crying as well.

His shoulders folded in closer as he thought about the event again. He remembered the mad crowds, actually _laughing_ at Kurt's desperation. These were the same men who professed love for the Little Princess, who said he was one of the most beautiful people they'd ever seen. Blaine had heard plenty of that sort of talk from the men who'd come through the shop.

Yet they didn't really care about Kurt.

And then, worse than the crowds, had been Kurt himself. Whatever it was that made him certain he had to escape, it had really scared him. Blaine had never seen so much terror radiating from one person. His entire life seemed to be narrowed suddenly into the pinpricks of pure fear that had echoed through Kurt's clear ocean eyes and tore through Blaine's whole body.

"Blaine," Mike's ragged voice interrupted the painful image of Kurt's panic that was seared into his mind. "Are you okay?"

There was a long horrified pause as Blaine realised he certainly wasn't okay. He hated himself for just standing back and watching, for running back into the store when Kurt had been knocked out and he couldn't push past the layer of men on the footpath to get to him. Because that's what Blaine had done. The collection of blurry memories could help him conclude that much.

He'd run away.

When Kurt could have used his help.

"How could they just knock him out?" Blaine answered, his mind not really processing that this was a delicate question before the words spilled out of his mouth.

He was still horrified by the sight of Kurt's body, so full of vitality and determination, suddenly slumping, limp and helpless. He remembered the guard's casual sigh as he replaced Kurt in the back seat of the wagon.

Mike's eyes flickered down to Tina again. He was still holding back further tears. He didn't answer Blaine's question.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said. "I just…"

He ran a hand through his curls, looking dejected.

"Don't apologise." Tina said, peering across at him from her nest of comfort. "We understand."

There was another long silence. Blaine's sense of _wrong_ grew the longer he sat there. He couldn't stand just staying still… leaving Kurt with those people. It had gone against every single instinct in his entire body. He knew he should never have let the men hit Kurt in the first place. But what could he have done?

What could he do?

There wasn't a single thing Blaine could do. It was going to drive him mad. He was probably going to dream about the event every night. He'd probably never forget Kurt's sudden mad struggle. He'd never forget the sight of Kurt's bravery, knocked out of him with a blow that should never have been landed. Blaine's skin still itched with the urge to jump in the way of the offending fist.

But it was too late.

Or was it?

Blaine's eyes suddenly sparked to life again. He couldn't stop the crunching hit to Kurt's skull. But that didn't mean he couldn't _help._

"Tina! Mike!" Blaine leapt to his feet, face suddenly full of hope. "Kurt's going to the market, right?"

"Yeah…" Mike eyed him with curiosity, seeming like he hardly dared to believe that Blaine might have thought of something. Tina just looked confused. Blaine knew his sudden change in demeanour must have been weird for them, but he didn't have time to explain.

"He's being sold?" Blaine sounded breathless now. He grabbed the coat that was hanging on the hook where he'd left it yesterday.

"Yes, but Blaine he-"

"I have to go!" Blaine said, pushing buttons through their holes to vigorously he almost snapped one off entirely. "I'll be back!"

"Blaine what're you-" But Tina's call came too late; Blaine had already sprinted across the shop and flung the door open as he left.

…

Kurt stood in front of the mirror in his little containment unit. He could hear the fluctuating noise of the crowd outside. Their excitement had been growing as the market drew longer. Since waking Kurt had already heard several sales from other stalls across the market. The Kings Castle stall was one of the largest. There were several other containment units out the back with Kurt, but he was the only one being kept alone. He was glad for the isolation, even though he was feeling restless.

He was still absolutely terrified at the mere thought of why Madame would sell Brittany so deliberately far away from him, but he knew there was nothing he could do.

Kurt bit back a bitter sting of pain and took another calming breath. He was moments away from being led out onto the platform and auctioned off. And after fixing his own hair and makeup after his little ordeal he knew he'd be in a lot of trouble if he messed it up again by crying.

He wished he'd kept a track of the time. After he'd woken up alone he'd tried to pick up on the goings on outside his little room, but he hadn't been able to hear anything. And no one had spoken to him apart from one guard opening the locked door for long enough to tell him to fix his appearance and be ready to go out.

He'd heard nothing since.

Kurt examined his reflection one more time. He was certainly looking just like Madame had ordered. The perfect little slave.

"Excuse me, uh- Little Princess?" A soft tap on Kurt's door made him look up just as the locks clicked again.

"What?" he asked coldly.

"No need for that tone, kid," The large black guard said, coming inside and shutting the door behind himself. "Just came to collect you. It's time for your sale."

Kurt sighed and took once last look in the mirror before turning and holding his wrists out impatiently for the guards to cuff him. He was taken from the room more gently than usual, and Kurt made a mental note to thank the guard at the end. He would rather the man learned that treating slaves nicely would earn a polite response, because hardly any of the guards seemed to know or care about that sort of thing.

Then Kurt noticed the gold band around the guard's thick dark wrist and he realised that the older man was also a slave, probably owned by the government official that organised the market. So of course he'd understand how Kurt felt.

"Excuse me, Mr-" Kurt trailed off.

"Jones, Mr Jones," He told the much younger slave, not quite meeting Kurt's eye, but smiling all the same.

"Mr Jones, can I ask the time?" Kurt said, walking on ahead of the guard past the last little hut where people where housed and starting up the wooden stairs the led to the platform he'd be sold on. He could already hear the crowd on the other side.

"I'm afraid I don't know exactly." The guard sounded regretful. "I'd guess around one o'clock."

"Thank you," Kurt said. He threw a smile back at the guard, already feeling a little more at ease because of his presence.

But then Kurt's foot hit the second top stair and he froze. Three more strides and he'd be out in sight of the crowd. He could already see the line of King's Castle slaves in front of him. There was only one set of empty chains in the very centre, ready for Kurt.

"You okay?" The guard asked him, and Kurt was reminded of his own father so suddenly he had to squeeze his eyes shut.

"Fine," he said. "Just… getting in character,"

And in another moment Kurt was composed. Taking a deep breathe, he tilted his chin up and stepped out past the wooden panel blocking him from sight, and onto the platform. He ignored the sudden roar from the crowd and took up his spot, staring across their heads and into the distance.

At first all he did was take in the sight of the other platforms set up around the square, all with enclosed spaces at the back where the slaves were taken before sale. Most seemed fairly uncrowded now that the King's Castle auction was beginning.

Kurt remained where he was, blank face, turmoil of emotions pushed deep down inside, as Mr Jones attached the manacles to his feet.

A slight movement out of the corner of his eye suddenly caught his attention. As Mr Jones straightened up and made his way off the platform, Kurt couldn't help his eyes dropping off to the very closest edge of the crowd where the motion had occurred. What he saw filled him with surprise.

Blaine.

Blaine was standing there, looking full of sympathy and a desperate aching need to do something.

Blaine was standing there with one hand clutching the rail and his tiny compact body lost in the sea of men who gathered beside and behind him.

Blaine was standing there looking completely out of place, yet completely sure of himself.

Blaine.

From the sweet boy Blaine had seemed like when they first met, to the pair of golden eyes that had watched Kurt pass out, to the member of the rough crowd all ready to place bids and _buy _him; Blaine was without a doubt the most confusing man Kurt had ever met in his life.

In that moment, Kurt thought he might hate him.

Blaine quickly shot him a supportive smile.

Kurt frowned in return and looked away.

He could not lose focus.

Even if Mike and Tina's apparent friend was standing in a crowd of people who wanted to purchase him.

He would not lose focus.

Even if the boy looked like he was trying to signal for Kurt's attention again.

He would not lose focus.

No matter what.

…

Blaine had run all the way to the market place and he felt more than a little stupid when he arrived to see that masses swarming everywhere. Most of them seemed at least half-way to being drunk already. There were a few obviously richer men, accompanied by their own guards, who were there to buy the more expensive slaves. They mostly seemed to have their own carriages set up like a base where they'd return after each auction that interested them.

The rest of the men weren't nearly as lucky. Those with gold were in grave danger of being pickpocketed and robbed by the many other criminals wandering the area and so looked constantly around in fear. Some men were obviously there to stare rather than buy.

Blaine was pretty sure he was the only one with good intentions in the entire market.

With a gulp he plunged forward into the crowd, noticing immediately as a man reached a not-so-subtle hand into his pocket. Blaine however, had no gold on him. He simply shot the man an apologetic smile which seemed to confuse him, and went on his way. There was only one stall he was interested in, and it quickly caught his eye.

"_The King's Castle, home of the Little Princess, and your number one choice in slave_ _dealing_, _this way_" the sign was fairly basic, but Blaine could already see it was gathering a crowd. Kurt's "name" alone was enough to draw people in.

He quickly ducked past the sign and into the open grassy space in front of the platform with another large "_King's Castle_" sign hanging above it.

There were partitions on either side of the platform of course, so that Blaine couldn't see what was behind. But he was fairly sure they wouldn't have let him anywhere near Kurt anyway. As he went as close as he possibly could, clutching the railing and peering up at the platform above himself, Blaine realised he didn't have a proper plan.

He stood there anyway.

He waited.

And when hours had passed the grass behind him was pretty much full of people. He was glad that his nice clothing seemed to mark him as someone important, because no one was ready to use physical violence against him to make him move from his place in the front row.

Perhaps it was his weirdly polite manner that confused them, but either way, Blaine was thankful for it. He'd also noticed that they all assumed he was rich, because more than one had attempted a robbery.

Blaine supposed that _technically _he was rich. He just had none of the fortune with him.

His eyes had been darting between opposite sides of the stage since he'd arrived. His feet hurt from standing for so long, but still he hadn't left his spot even for a second. All he could think about was Kurt's fear as he'd been knocked out.

He had to save him.

He just didn't know how.

So when the slaves began to be led out and the crowd around him roared with delight, Blaine became very tense. He watched girl after girl walk across the stage to be locked down in manacles around their ankles. Each time Kurt didn't appear, Blaine grew more anxious.

"Wouldya move over a bit?" A man behind him asked harshly, nudging Blaine's shoulder as the third last space on the platform was filled. Blaine's jaw tightened and he turned around, fire in his eyes.

"No." He snapped, and the man actually looked startled. Blaine turned back, still gripping the railing, to watch the second last girl led on stage.

"Little bastard," The man behind growled, but he didn't do anything. The combination of Blaine's straight back, confidence, rich appearance, and coiled muscles must somehow have warned him away, despite the fact that Blaine was about half his size.

Then Blaine didn't care about anything else, because a sudden hush fell over the crowd as they heard the footsteps of the last slave moving up the stairs. He was so sure it was Kurt coming that it was almost a physical ache.

And then Kurt was there, stepping out from behind the temporary wooden wall.

Blaine's breathe caught in his throat despite himself because _damn_ Kurt was beautiful.

But then the roaring of the crowd became more apparent and Blaine's attention moved away from the lush hair, the slender figure and the elegant grace that made up the Little Princess, and he focused on Kurt underneath it all.

Kurt was scared, there was something of that emotion in the stiffness of his walk. He was completely composed though, and Blaine's felt a flood of sympathy for the man forced into this life, forced to learn the art of concealing all his emotions.

It was a wonder to him how the screaming crowd could miss the pain behind Kurt's outer shell of smug prettiness when it seemed to clear to Blaine.

Maybe they just didn't care.

Blaine didn't realise he was one of the only people who'd ever bothered to look deeply at Kurt.

Blaine realised his hand was automatically reaching out toward the stunning man, and he quickly dropped his arm back to his side. To his astonishment, Kurt's eyes dropped down at the gesture, and locked with his own.

Blaine could suddenly see everything hidden there. He saw the fear and the determination and the shock, the recognition, and the anger that followed it.

All these emotions passed quickly through the tiniest quirks of his facial muscles. Blaine felt a squeezing in his chest, and a sudden choke in his throat. He blinked, hard, to make sure he wasn't crying, and shot Kurt a sympathetic smile, trying to show he was there to help without being able to speak a single word.

Kurt's face morphed into a frown. It held for the briefest of moments, and then the Princess broke eye contact and let his regard travel across the crowd again, face a mask of ice and then alluring pleasure as the cheering grew louder still.

"Right!" A stout woman with her hair up in a twist walked to the front of the stage. Blaine couldn't help but notice that she had just enough space between her and the row of slaves that they wouldn't be able to touch her, even if they launched themselves forward.

"Hush now!" He probably wasn't supposed to see the flash of hatred in Kurt's expression, which he hid as quickly as it appeared. "Who's ready to buy some new darlings from my little Castle?"

The screaming crowd became deafening. The woman, possessing a strange motherly handsomeness, watched them as fondly as if they were he own children. Blaine saw her take account of all the excitement with gleaming coal black eyes. It was strange, because she wasn't unattractive herself, in fact she looked as if, in her youth, she may have had nicer face than a few of the slaves behind her. But because she wore normal clothing, a long dress, she wasn't even an object of lust to the mad crowd in front of her. She was wife material, a real woman, not a slave. Blaine would never understand it. It wasn't as if there was anything else separating her from the women she owned, yet the smallest difference made her an entirely different species.

"I'm Madame, and I'm the owner here. I also want to tell you a little secret. My girls have all been _so_ excited about this day!" She mock-whispered, pandering perfectly to her audience, who had fallen silent to listen. "You should have seen them, running to take peaks out from backstage as they waited."

Blaine scoffed at the word 'stage'. The stages he'd always known had been friendly places, and he would never classify the auction platform at a slave market as a stage.

As his noise of derision escaped him, Madame seemed to hear, because she glanced down at him. For a moment Blaine watched her take in his smart clothing and the coloured bowtie at his neck. The corner of her mouth turned up just a little higher than it already was. Like everyone else, she'd come to the conclusion that he was rich. And from the little Blaine had heard and observed about Madame, he knew she'd want as many rich men as possible to be attending her auction.

"In fact, even the Little Princess had to sneak up here and take a look." Madame glanced back at Kurt now, and Blaine watched as he met her eye for a moment and then, after a pause so small you wouldn't see it if you blinked, Kurt ducked his head in false shyness. "And let me tell you, there are a few men he had his eyes on."

Her gaze flicked back to Blaine for a split-second before it passed over to the other obviously rich men, mostly standing near the sides, and the back.

"Now I hate to keep you lovely young men waiting. So how about we get started?" The screams of assent were enough to make her emit a strange burst of laughter that didn't quite light her face properly. "You all know the rules of the auctions by now I presume, so don't bid if you can't pay!"

And with that Madame flung a hand out, as if presenting her wares, which Blaine supposed, she was.

"Without further ado…. Our stunning slaves!"

Blaine didn't pay much attention to anyone else as the hour wore on and slave after slave was brought to the front of the stage, and then bid on.

Kurt was last, of course. Blaine watched him steadily, but he never made eye-contact again. He kept a straight back, and a soft smile as he slowly swept the crowd, spotted the most obviously wealthy patrons, and gave each of them a special moment of charm.

"And now, our dear little boy, the one you've all been waiting for… Little Princess!"

With Madame's last announcement, Kurt's ankles were unlocked and he took two strides forward to the front of the stage. Here, his arms were pulled back into the cuffs he'd been free from while tied down. Kurt tilted his head to the side, shot a wink toward the general area of the back of the crowd, and then, with a beautifully captivating smile, his head whipped around to face Madame, looking for all the world like someone listening attentively, full of anticipation.

"Now as always, we're starting the bidding at the price it costs for one session with the Little Princess!" She had a smirk in her tone, because there was no way Kurt would be sold for so little money. The crowd booed at the sound of the price. Most men were apparently still bitter over just how much it cost for the one session.

"Now, now, don't get mad," Madame waved a hand indulgently. "That's what forty minutes with him is worth!"

Blaine felt heat rise to his cheeks.

"So, gentlemen, let the bidding begin!" Madame waved a hand dramatically, and right away, people began to place bids.

The price rose immediately to 10 ounces of gold, and then steadily increased. Blaine felt panic rise up. Each of the slaves had sold for about 20 ounces each, but Blaine knew for a fact that Kurt was worth a lot more than the average slave.

He also knew that his mad plan meant he had to get involved at some point.

And then, trembling, he raised his hand without thinking, just as a man behind him made the price 21 ounces.

"T-twenty three ounces." Blaine stammered, just a little, still unsure if he'd made the right decision.

As soon as he spoke Kurt's eyes widened and flickered down to look at Blaine. He looked confused and scared, and Blaine felt a stab of red-hot shame shoot through himself. Kurt plainly didn't understand that Blaine was bidding for an entirely different reason to everyone else. His lip curled in an aloof unconcerned way, and he turned his gaze away from Blaine.

"Atta boy!" The men behind Blaine were shouting, patting him on the back and seeming proud that they were standing with someone rich enough to bid for the Little Princess. "Get him!"

Blaine shook off the hand that landed on his shoulder, willing Kurt to look at him again. He knew Kurt didn't understand why he had just bid. He _had_ to make Kurt understand.

Blaine realised then that other people had continued to place bids in his moment of lost concentration. He quickly caught up with the new price, trying to grasp how he'd ever win the auction.

He needed to save Kurt, and this was the only idea he had at short notice. It was much better than all his other ideas, most of which involved racing up onto the stage and fighting his way out with Kurt at his side. All of those plans were far-fetched and beyond stupid. Blaine knew there was only one real option.

He had to buy Kurt.

But as the price grew higher and higher, several men still bidding back and forth across the open space, Blaine knew it would be pointless to add any input now. He had no idea how high the price might go anyway. All of the men seemed pretty desperate to win.

Blaine was very glad for his parents in that moment. He was very glad for the huge fortune they'd given him along with their blessing when he'd left the Mainland. Of course, he'd bought the farm and paid for enough to keep it running, but mostly what he had of his inheritance had remained untouched.

He certainly had enough money to fall back on, and he knew there would be more when his parents passed on, though hopefully that wouldn't happen anytime soon.

As Blaine calculated these things, a mad thought crossed his mind.

The idea was so crazy, so wild and out-there and insane he almost backed away from it as soon as it came to him.

But he didn't back away.

Instead he grabbed the idea, took a deep breath, and raised his hand once more.

He heard the bid before him, of 30.5 ounces, and swallowed a bubble of hysterical laughter at the thought of what he was about to do.

There was one sure-fire way to make sure he would win the entire auction.

As he was called on, Blaine opened his mouth and said it…

"Three hundred and fifty ounces of gold!"

* * *

Just in case it's not clear, Blaine just bid way _way_ more money than Kurt (or any slave for that matter) would ever have been sold for.

I'm loving the reviews guys! Thank you all so much for your interest in this story!


	5. Sold

I'm so sorry for the delay. My laptop died and I lost the _whole hard drive _so I had to start this chapter all over again. I also lost a ton of snippets I'd written from later in this story. I guess I'll have to write them again and hope they're as good the second time. Thanks for your patience!

* * *

For Kurt the moments after Blaine's bid didn't seem real. Perhaps it was the way the screaming crowd fell so silent it seemed as if Blaine's confident voice was all that existed for several long seconds.

Kurt actually registered what Blaine had said somewhere around the time that the crowd started yelling again, and his shock made all noise dull anyway. Because there was absolutely no way that sweet, fumbling, gentlemanly, friends-with-the-Changs Blaine had just bid a small fortune on the broken darling of the biggest brothel in Laurel Hill.

"Now sir, I hope you realise this isn't a joke." Madame said somewhat skeptically. "There will be serious consequences if you try to back out of this agreement."

She wasn't quite letting herself hope yet, sending out a reminder of the strict rules surrounding the auctions.

Kurt's eyes were locked on Blaine and he hated himself for the misplaced thud of dread that overwhelmed him at the thought of how Blaine would be punished if he couldn't follow through on his bid.

But Blaine looked perfectly at ease as he nodded firmly and assured Madame of his ability to pay with a simple "I'm aware M'am."

The screams grew louder, and all Kurt could do was gape at Blaine. His warm golden eyes were fixed assuredly on Madame. It was still hard to reconcile his image with the idea if a slave owner. As Madame gripped her Little Princess firmly under his elbow and drew him forward, he stumbled. Not matter how hard he tried, Kurt found he couldn't gather his scattered thoughts.

"Going once," Madame said, though there was little point in doing so. No one else would bid now. "Going twice..."

Kurt wanted to see how everyone else was reacting, but all he could focus on was Blaine rocking forward on the balls of his feet in anticipation. He tried to spot the same greed he always saw beneath the surface, but Blaine was bloody good at hiding it.

"Sold!" Madame shouted with a final raised arm.

The exuberance in her voice was echoed tenfold in Blaine's beaming smile as he fell back onto flat feet again. For the first time since his sudden bid, Blaine looked at Kurt. There was something about his happiness that made Kurt feel a natural smile bubble under the surface. His new owner just exuded the kind of joy that sent out reassurance.

And Kurt hated him for it.

At least that thought was manageable. Kurt watched for one moment longer, as Blaine's head tilted hopefully, seeking approval. With great effort, he tore his eyes away.

He watched Madame untie the chains from his wrists, and gave a charming wave to the audience of men who were practically wetting themselves with excitement. As their cheering grew louder Kurt stepped back and turned to walk off the platform with confidence that masked the slight shaking in his hands.

He would have as long as it took Blaine to sign the contract to collect himself. He was counting on that. Because under the afternoon sun, with the calls of his fans and the stare of those thick-lashed eyes, Kurt could not think past horror and shock.

As Madame followed him off the platform, she touched a hand to his back and Kurt stiffened. Lost in his whirlwind of thoughts, he had almost missed his last obligation to the King's Castle. Taking one last shallow breathe, he paused just before the partition and aimed a final wave toward the crowd.

The animal cheering that made up his legacy echoed in his eardrums as the Little Princess stepped out of sight.

...

Blaine was led quietly out of the crowd of men with whom he suddenly seemed very popular. It was odd, he thought, how much people's attitudes could change when they wanted something from you. Blaine had already been invited to numerous places for drinks.

But he was honestly more focused on thanking the quiet slaves who led him to a smaller containment unit out the back. And on Kurt. It seemed that ever since he'd met the beautiful boy, he had become something of a focus for Blaine's thoughts.

He was troubled that Kurt hadn't returned his smile earlier. Perhaps he didn't fully understand what was going on yet. After all, Blaine had surprised himself with his bold decision, so it must have been just as confusing for Kurt. It occurred to the young owner that Kurt may not even realise why Blaine had made his bid in the first place. Hadn't the Changs said that he expected to be a prostitute forever? So Blaine would certainly have to tell him that his only new obligation was to be whoever he wanted to be.

It wasn't as if he would expect anything more than friendship from Kurt, as much as he might want it.

Kurt was probably just upset at the idea of Blaine being like all those other men who walked through his life. All Blaine had to do was _explain._

He nodded to himself and wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. It was going to be okay.

The slave in front of Blaine eyed him curiously as they stopped before Madame's door. "Are you ready to go in, Mr Anderson?" He asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Blaine answered, and shot the slave a warm smile, remembering his manners. "Thank you, sir."

A little baffled, the slave knocked three times and waited for the answering call before opening the door to the room where Madame sat behind a large desk.

"Thanks again!" Blaine called to his two companions as they shut the door behind him.

When he turned to face Madame, he was struck by her resemblance to his own farm cat. She watched him in an almost predatory manner, one hand flicking a quill back and forth between her forefinger and thumb. The smile on her face was off somehow; a few too many teeth and not a wrinkle around the eyes. The sharp pupils remained fixed on Blaine.

"Good afternoon, sir." She trilled, similar indulgence dripping from her tone to that which she had thrown at the crowd earlier. She sounded like a doting aunt and look like a shrewd business woman. The result was terrifying.

Blaine felt guilty for passing judgment though. He quickly cleared his throat and tried to be sincere. There was never cause for rudeness.

"Good afternoon, M'am." He said, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair nervously.

Her eyes raked his clothes. The shirt, jacket and bow tie were fairly understated, but plainly tailored well. Blaine could tell she was reaffirming his wealth.

"Do take a seat!" She waved a hand and Blaine gingerly sat in the wooden chair before her desk. "Now I'm assuming you don't have the money on you."

Even her laugh sounded too deliberately pitched to be sincere. But Blaine joined in. A polite chuckle.

"I'm afraid not." He said, feeling the need to explain. "But I'm sure we can send someone to the Bank right away. Do you want it in gold ounces or pounds? I may have to send a letter to my parent's bank on the Mainland for a conversion if you'd prefer the latter. It might take a while, I'm sorry. K- The Little Princess was an impromptu buy."

"Gold will be fine m'dear." Madame said firmly. She looked like it would be a lot better than fine. "Let me call someone to contact the bank"

Blaine was forced to wait awkwardly as she organised the details with another slave waiting outside the door. He provided the name of his bank in Laurel Hill and otherwise could only wait until Madame returned.

The small building was windowless. He could see clothing racks behind Madame's desk along with boxes that were now empty, but must have contained ownership papers. There was even a safe locked with multiple padlocks in the corner. Blaine thumbed absently over a book sitting on the desk. Fresh ink listed the recent sales. He spotted the name "Brittany, Butterfly Girl" and, remembering it from earlier, traced along to see the title "Noah Puckerman, previous customer, owner of two." The words didn't really mean anything to Blaine, but he hoped that Brittany was safe with whoever "Noah" was. The Changs seemed to have thought highly of her.

The other names sparked no recognition, even though he'd just heard them all at the auction. The last one, "The Little Princess", made him smile. The fact that Kurt hadn't given his real name made Blaine feel fondness over his defiance. It was the little things he learnt about Kurt that made him long to know more. His refusal to sit back and let people ruin him was one of those things.

It was odd, left alone in the room, to think that he was so nearby. Blaine just wanted to see him. He pushed the book away and tugged nervously at his bow tie. The longer time drew out, the more he worried that Kurt had misunderstood the situation.

...

Kurt was back in his own containment unit again.

He was calming down at last. It was easier to think without Blaine looking at him, messing with his head. There was just something about the boy that screamed that he was trustworthy. Luckily, Kurt had learned time and time again that men like that were always the most dangerous.

Blaine's appearance was nothing but deception.

Kurt knew he had to remind himself of that constantly. He knew his own weaknesses better than anyone in the world, and thanks to his colossal experience with men, he knew Blaine's.

Blaine's biggest weakness was his attraction to Kurt.

_I mean for god's sake,_ Kurt thought bitterly, _The dumbass just bid three hundred and fifty fucking gold ounces on me._

Perhaps things would be _okay_ living with Blaine. Kurt could give him what he wanted until he wasn't needed anymore. When Blaine was ready to marry a proper person, surely he wouldn't be cruel enough to sell Kurt on to just any old buyer. Mike and Tina wouldn't befriend a person who would do that. Kurt could request a brothel that would treat him well, and Blaine would comply. Hopefully he'd only have to stay with the farmer a year or so before he was ready for someone else.

"Calm down." He told himself sternly, trying to reclaim his usual composure. "He won't want you for long."

He felt a little stupid for talking to himself. But that was what always kept Kurt grounded in his unreal world, and there was still something frightening hovering in the back of his mind. It was a question he didn't know how to approach.

Why had Blaine bid that much money?

As soon as he granted the question notice within his brain, a thousand others chased after it. What kind of twisted desires would drive a person to pay that kind of fortune on a slave? What sort of fantasies needed to be fulfilled that badly? What would Blaine expect of him?

There must be something desperate and hungry under that innocent exterior. The gentlemanly sweetness could easily have fooled the Changs. That meant Kurt couldn't rely on their judgment in this case.

The more Kurt thought about it, the more it scared him. Blaine's wholesome outer shell couldn't possibly reflect what was inside. Not when all his important actions hinted otherwise. Not when he'd paid so much money for a sex slave. Not when he always looked at Kurt as if he simply wanted _more- _though more of _what_, Kurt didn't know.

Kurt remembered his past experiences with men like Blaine. They looked like perfect gentlemen right up until the door was closed. It was then that they proved themselves to be as lustful as everyone else. Often worse.

The idea of Blaine being like that was, for some reason, scarier than anything else. Kurt pressed his hands to his abdomen, feeling the air flow in and out of his lungs.

"You're used to this." He tried to calm himself. "Blaine won't be worse than what you're used to."

It was true. There was nothing Blaine could ask for that Kurt didn't know how to give. Everything kink, every sexual need, he could handle perfectly.

He reminded himself of that fact, over and over, as he accounted for each rise and fall of his lungs. He reminded himself that whatever games Blaine wanted to play, Kurt would accommodate and excel at until he wasn't needed. He had no cause to doubt his capabilities in that sense.

Kurt couldn't think of any other problems that might arise.

"Just give him everything he wants. Don't let him play mind games. Don't let him start thinking he's in love with you." Kurt turned to stand in front of his mirror and frowned at himself, thinking through the possible situations. "Don't you dare start thinking you love him either."

His reflection scoffed along with him as soon as the words left his mouth. At least that one wouldn't be too hard. Kurt hadn't liked a guy in a long time, let alone love. The only people he'd ever felt love for were his friends. Or the family in the distant past; the ones who were so delicately woven in memory that Kurt hardly believed they had ever existed.

"Just make sure he knows what this is." Kurt said. He wasn't feeling so lightheaded any more. Just numb. "Give him what he paid for and nothing more."

His reflection blinked back at him, eyes cold and blue.

...

_I, Blaine Devon Anderson, hereby agree to all terms within, regarding the ownership of the slave numbered 21 under the current owners, King's Castle Brothel. The agreed fee has been paid in full. Ownership in its entirety will therefore be transferred from the moment the following papers have been signed. The well-being and care of 21 ceases to be the concern of the previous owners from that time._

_I have signed below to show that I agree to all terms in the accompanying contract and the contract in full has been signed and approved by a Slave Market official and by the owner of King's Castle Brothel, following my own signatures._

_Further details may be found within the full contract._

_The agreement will not become official without this final document. Involved parties must sign below._

_Past owner: Madame T. Bastarache_

_ Madame Bastarache_

_Owner: Mr Blaine D. Anderson_

_B Anderson_

_.._

The words stared up at Blaine as he lifted the pen from the paper.

It was finished.

His familiar name, followed by his familiar looping signature, seemed so normal. It was hard to believe his entire life had just changed.

He'd read the contract through twice, with the help of a temporary lawyer provided by the bank. It pretty much promised that every single part of Kurt's life was entirely up to Blaine. That kind of power scared him, but he knew he wasn't going to use it against Kurt. He knew he'd probably ignore the contract entirely. The signing was just a necessary, though shocking, part of this process.

Blaine hated seeing how little Kurt actually mattered to the world.

But it _was _necessary, and it was done. And when the papers were whipped from under his nose, Blaine did not regret a thing.

"It all seems perfectly in order." Madame said, beaming from ear to ear as she returned Blaine's half of the papers to him. They made a rather thick stack all together like that. No wonder they'd taken so long to go through. "It's been simply lovely doing business with you."

Blaine neatly tucked his own papers into his pocket as Madame thanked the bank representative and instructed them on how the money transfer was to be completed. As he checked that the ink on his final slip of paper was properly dry, it struck him how strange and terrible the whole process was.

All it took was him signing his name twenty two times in all the right places, and the government would just hand him the power to control another life. Not just any life, but that of Kurt Hummel; The one they called a Princess and treated like a slave. The one they would never know, and never attempt to understand. The one with the blank, cruel eyes and the eyes full of soulful vulnerability. The one who radiated beauty, and masked inner scars. The one Blaine wanted to know more than he'd wanted to know anyone, but the one that scared him beyond his own comprehension.

One signature on each page of both copies of the contract. Madame's contract. Blaine's contract. As easy as that, in a methodical flipping of pages. The agreement was sealed section by section, promising exactly what Blaine would have control of when payments were made.

Three signatures on different bank slips and one in Madame's little records book. Blaine paid for the most precious thing he'd ever bought.

One swoop of pen inked in under Madame's now familiar signature on her copy of the final "proof of sale" paper.

Kurt no longer belonged to Madame.

One last dip in the pot of ink. The nib scratching across paper. One last signature on Blaine's ownership paper.

Kurt belonged to Blaine.

Just like that. A curling line of letters, nothing more. A simple name Blaine had written a thousand times over.

The most delicate of treasures tipped into his hands.

...

Kurt's head snapped up at the sound of a knock. He drew a smile to his lips with ease and checked one last time that his hair was all in place.

"Oi, Princess!" The man outside called. Kurt flung the door open and shot him a glare.

"I'm no deaf you know." He snapped. The other man looked a little taken aback, and Kurt's lip curled in distaste. "So where is he?"

"You'll wait for him by Madame's carriage." The guard grunted, starting to lead before Kurt could make another cutting remark. He didn't seem prepared for the slave that was well know for being sweet and accommodating to behave like this. He should have spoken to one of Madame's regular guards then. They'd tell him how cruel Kurt could really be.

"Madame's carriage?" Kurt asked, catching up in a few long strides.

"Madame thought she may as well lend it to him, what with all the money he paid." The guard seemed reluctant to keep talking, and Kurt was more than happy to walk in silence. He was still feeling stupidly nervous about discovering what exactly it was that Blaine wanted. At least he'd accepted that it wouldn't be _good._

"I'm supposed to leave you here." The guard barely glanced at Kurt before moving away, back along the temporary wooden fence that surrounded the containment units.

Kurt huffed and climbed into the carriage himself. He sat on the back seat, head high, and wondered what he would look like when Blaine came out. He wanted to seem aloof yet excited. Enough to make his new owner proud that he could stir up those feelings in his new slave, but to show him that there was no way Kurt was trusting him. It would have to do until Kurt discovered what Blaine's "type" was and changed his own behavior accordingly.

He'd work something out. He always did.

...

"Enjoy your new purchase Mr Anderson." Madame shook his hand one last time, a knowing smile flitting across her strangely closed face. Blaine wasn't sure if he should bother explaining anything to her or not. He was already blushing at the mere idea of what she was insinuating.

In the end she saved him the decision by turning on her heel and marching away. She was probably off to close the last of her accounts. Blaine on the other hand, had more important things to attend to. The quiet slave she left him with began to lead him in the other direction - toward Kurt. As they walked, Blaine told the slave their destination, but the short trip was otherwise taken in silence. Blaine felt his heart hammer ever faster as they approached, and he cursed himself for being so excited. It was just that everything was so surreal.

As they came around the corner of the building, Blaine saw two horses. He wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers, picking up speed.

And there he was.

Kurt sat in the back seat of the waiting carriage. His head was tilted back in the sunlight, as if he was soaking in his solitude. His hair caught the light as he tilted his head ever so slightly, stretching his neck. The movement revealed his closed eyes, and the slightest of smiles gracing his lips. He could have looked peaceful. But there were a few key giveaways.

Kurt's fists were clenched, albeit loosely, on the bench at his sides. His posture was just a little too rigid. Blaine thought maybe he was just playing at being relaxed.

"Um... Good afternoon!" He just stopped himself from calling Kurt's actual name. He wasn't supposed to know it after all.

As the beautiful boy turned, a smile flickered across his face. When he called Blaine's name in surprise, Kurt's voice held so much warmth that his new owner couldn't help the grin that rapidly split his face in two.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked, climbing up to the backseat and inhaling sharply when Kurt moved over for him, and he felt fingertips brush the back of his hand. Blaine wondered if he had done it on purpose, but Kurt gave no indication.

"Only if you are, mister." Kurt replied with an easy smile.

"You can call me Blaine." Blaine assured him. All Kurt did was nod absently, a half smile on his face.

The carriage pulled away with a jolt that sent their shoulders bumping and something warm crackling under Blaine's skin. He was only distracted from Kurt's proximity when he realised that the Changs had no idea where he'd gone, or what he'd been doing. He hoped they weren't too worried. Perhaps one of them would work things out. Lost in these thoughts, it was a while before he remembered that he still had to explain to Kurt what was going on. His companion seemed oddly silent about the whole thing, not even one little question surfacing.

As Blaine turned to face him, Kurt spoke for the first time.

"Where are we headed?" Blaine wondered if he was imagining it, or if Kurt's voice sounded huskier than before.

"To the Changs' place." Blaine told him. "We'll probably stay the night."

"Oh," For some reason this piece of information made Kurt frown down at where his hands were clasped in his lap. Blaine felt worry rise up rapidly.

"Is that okay? They're your friends, right?" He asked, almost reaching for Kurt's hand to comfort him.

"I was just..." Kurt looked up at him suddenly, and it struck Blaine again just how close they were sitting. "Hoping we might get to spend some time alone tonight."

Those words should _not_ effect Blaine that strongly. He felt his cheeks heat up as he averted his gaze, watching the road. His voice felt choked, and when he spoke he swore it was at least an octave higher.

"No, that's not- I didn't buy you for-" He took a deep breath. As he attempted to talk again, Kurt's hand landed on his leg. "Please don't!"

Kurt withdrew as if he'd been burned. Blaine still couldn't bring himself to look at him.

"I guess I need to explain things." He reached up to nervously tug at his bow tie. Kurt was listening in silence. "I didn't buy you for t-that. I just wanted to get you out of there and... You don't owe me anything. I just wanted to help you. I don't-"

He looked up at last. Kurt was considering him, teeth grazing his lip as he took in what Blaine was saying.

"I don't need you to have s- I don't need you to do anything for me." Blaine promised.

"Alright," Kurt said slowly. "Thank you."

"That's okay." Blaine said.

Despite his thanks, Kurt still looked very confused. They were almost at the store though, and he didn't really have time to explain any further. "I'll talk to you about it properly later, okay?"

"Okay, Mister," Something like understanding sparked in his eyes as he agreed. "We'll 'talk' later."

Kurt was staring up at the back of the store as the driver followed Blaine's directions into the Changs' stable. Blaine glanced sideways at him. Despite Kurt's words, and apparent understanding of the situation, Blaine still felt very nervous. There had been something off in his tone of voice. For some reason, it seemed as if Kurt had missed the point entirely.


End file.
